Up Through The Atmosphere, Up Where The Air Is Clear
by BrightShiningAsTheSun
Summary: (Saving Mr. Banks) When Charlotte took the job at Walt Disney Studios to work on their latest film, she knew it might be a hard task. She and her new colleagues, two brothers and a bright writer, have to learn to work with their curmudgeonly author, but somehow, she knows they'll muddle through. Especially if the handsome man behind the piano keeps smiling at her like that.
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, so let's just pretend that Dick isn't married in the film so I can get this out of my head and onto here. It pretty much follows the plot of the film, just with my OC and a lot of extra scenes.**

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><p>Taxis, Charlotte decided, were just as temperamental as aeroplanes and twice as crafty. She clutched at the door handle as her driver swerved around another corner at breakneck speed. There were too many cars, and the roads, they were far too narrow. It was a sheer bloody miracle that anyone managed to get from A to B safely in this country. Her driver, he had told her his name was Jimmy, hammered the heel of his palm against the centre of the steering wheel, and yelled at another car as they sped past. Charlotte twisted in her seat to look out of the rear window and mouth a quick apology to the driver of the other vehicle, but they had already left him behind. She turned back and gripped the handle again. Oh, she was so very out of her depth. California had been sold to her as a paradise, with serene locals, clean air and relatively quiet streets. But so far, it seemed she needn't have bothered flying all the way here from England, because the hustle and bustle (a gross understatement) was exactly like that of London.<p>

Obviously, someone had heard her prayers and thought it best to answer them, as within the next few minutes, the roads cleared and they began to climb a hill steadily. The road twisted around and around, the trees beginning to clear as they gained altitude. Eventually, they reached the top of the road and Charlotte was gifted with the sight of the city, only just beginning to wake up, under the grimy, lilac softness of a California morning before they continued on the winding road. She settled back in her seat, now that they had slowed down considerably and she didn't feel like she was back in the aeroplane that had brought her here.

It took a little time after that for them to reach their destination, but eventually the squat, yellow taxi pulled up outside the Walt Disney Studios with a squeal and a jerk. Charlotte huffed and smoothed down her hair, which had been perfectly done up when she'd left, but now it looked quite similar to a bird's nest. Her driver hopped out and opened her door for her, an unnecessary gesture, but she thanked him all the same as she dug into her handbag for the right cash to give him.

"Walt Disney Studios." He stated proudly, rocking back and forth on his heels. He was a young man, barely older than eighteen, and proud of a job well done.

"Thank you." She said again as she finally fished out her purse. With the foreign, green money stowed carefully into his pocket, Jimmy gave her a quick salute.

"You here on business?" He asked, which she would've found quite nosey if he weren't so young.

"New job." She told him simply and Jimmy nodded understandingly.

"Me too." He replied, patting the roof of the car fondly. Charlotte raised her eyebrows and tried to disguise her derisive laugh as a cough.

"You don't say." She said, then felt unkind. But the young man didn't seem to notice. He gave her a wide, toothy, American grin and gave her a cheery wave.

"Well, goodbye, then." He called, before sliding back into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut. She heard him turn on the radio full blast before the tyres began to spin and he was tearing off down the road. Charlotte watched him leave, wincing as he rounded the corner without slowing down. With a sigh, she pushed her handbag straps further onto her shoulder and readjusted her grip on her small suitcase. She looked up at the banner-like sign that was spread across the entrance to the lot and squared her shoulders. New country, new job, new me, she thought for the millionth time that day. It had become her mantra and had served her well, especially as a reminder as to why she was here, and that it wasn't all dizzying aeroplane rides, crate-like hotel rooms and taxi drivers that wanted to kill you. She walked up to the entrance to the lot where a security guard sat inside a metal cubicle, a red and white striped traffic barrier next to it. She knocked politely on the glass window and it slid away so that an old, whiskery security guard could poke his head out.

"Hi," She started unsurely. "It's my first day at work and I'm not sure where to-"

"First building on the left." The old man squawked, jabbing a crooked thumb over to where a small, square building sat. Charlotte nodded, slightly put off by his abruptness. She thanked him and he raised the security barrier. She had to duck a little to get under it safely but soon she was on her way again. She looked back over her shoulder as the wizened man disappeared out of sight, the glass window sliding shut with a blunt 'thunk'.

God, she was nervous. In all her life, she'd never worked anywhere so well-known, so accomplished and well, _famous_. When she'd gotten that telephone call three days ago, telling her that she'd got the job and they wanted her there as soon as possible, she'd been beside herself. She simply couldn't believe it. This place was so alien. The food, the people, the scenery, it was all so big. There was far too much to take in. She'd only arrived yesterday and had immediately been swept away by taxi to her hotel, which was quite close to the studios. It was the cheapest accommodation she could find here and she was only going to be staying for a month at most. It wasn't exactly the poshest place in the world, but it had everything she needed. Her small suitcase bumped against the side of her leg as a little reminder that they had invited her here, so she must be good enough. The suitcase carried an all manner of pens, pencils, pastels and charcoals, some paints and a simply ridiculous amount of paper. She was here to draw, to paint, to bring their story to life. She was going to be a part of something huge, which was both exhilarating and frightening. But it was too late to turn back now. She'd already reached the doors of the building.

She pushed open the heavy, brass-framed door and looked around unsurely. It was a reception area, with a long marble-topped desk stretching from one end of the room to the other. There was a row of chairs to the left and right of the entrance and, apart from a single man, they were empty. She strode up to the desk, determined to exude an air of grace and capability, her kitten heels clacking on the stone floor. She reached out and gently rang the bell with the tips of her fingers. Almost instantaneously, a young woman appeared. She gave Charlotte a toothy, white smile.

"Good morning and welcome to Walt Disney Studios. How can I be of assistance?" Charlotte smiled back at the woman and put her suitcase on the ground by feet.

"Good morning. I'm looking for," She paused and realised she didn't know who she was looking for. She frowned. "Hang on." She muttered before digging around in her bag for the letter she had received. It had all the details she would need about her stay and work placement, including who she would be meeting. She glanced down at the paper in her hands and quickly found what she was looking for. "Don DaGradi?" She read aloud, then looked back up at her. The receptionist smiled and gestured behind her to the row of chairs.

"Don, you're new artist is here." She called sweetly and Charlotte turned to find she was addressing the singular figure sitting in the waiting room. He jumped from his seat as if electrocuted and bounded over to her excitedly.

"Hi, Don DaGradi, pleasure to meet ya." He introduced himself, holding out his hand to her. Don appeared to be in his early fifties and he wore a grey suit with a thin black tie. A pair of thick, square glasses sat on the end of his nose and he certainly seemed friendly. "You must be-"

"Charlotte Johnson-Liddle, yes, hello." She replied smoothly as she took his hand and shook it firmly.

"Hello and good morning!" He said cheerfully, that Californian enthusiasm coming out in full force. "How was your flight?" Charlotte pulled a face and gave him a wry smile.

"Uneventful, thank goodness." She replied. She wouldn't mention the taxi until later, she wanted to make a good impression and moaning about her driver would not do. "I'm not the biggest fan of flying." She admitted.

"Ah, well, hopefully you'll be working here for a while, so you won't have to fly anywhere just yet." When Charlotte smiled, he jerked his head towards the huge doors and smiled back. "C'mon, I'll show you around." He said, and they were off. They waved a quick goodbye to the receptionist as they passed through the doors and then Charlotte was following Don as he meandered carefree down the centre of the lot. "It's at this point that I'm obliged to give you a little speech that comes with the tour, if you think you can bear it." He joked, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. Charlotte noticed this and realised just how relaxed it was here. Don seemed totally at ease, even enough to try and make her laugh. She really had fallen through the looking glass. Every other company she'd worked for had been very prim and proper.

"No, no, I'm terribly interested!" She said quickly, and she was. She knew very little about the history of the studios and was hungry to learn. She smiled cheekily. "Go on, give your speech." She said, finding she liked the laid-back atmosphere they had here. Don laughed and clapped his hands together.

"Well, then." He said, holding his arms open wide and waggling his hands grandly. "The Walt Disney Company started in 1923 in a small office in Los Angeles. It was there that Walt Disney, and his brother Roy, produced a series of short live-action and animated films." Charlotte raised her eyebrows, happily surprised.

"I didn't know that." She told him. Don gave her a pointed look.

"Aren't you glad you took the tour?" He teased, making her laugh. He adopted his hyperbolic tour guide voice again and continued the spiel. "During the next 14 years, many changes took place at the Disney studio. Mickey Mouse was born in 1928, followed by Pluto, Goofy, Donald Duck and the rest of the gang." He jabbed his thumb over to a colourful poster on the wall of a building, conveniently displaying the characters he had just mentioned. "After the release of the _critically_ _acclaimed_ 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarves'," He nudged her arm to stress how impressive he was being and she laughed again. She very much liked DaGradi, and was glad she and him would be working closely. "We realised we needed to expand. So, with the profits from Snow White, Walt began designing a studio specifically for the purpose of making animated films." He gestured to a building on their right. "Over here we have the Animation Building, where the animators and the artists, like yourself, work. Across the street here, we have the Inking and Painting and the Camera buildings, where the artwork is completed and photographed." The buildings were all sleek and new, but they also held a standing that usually only came with buildings that were much, much older. It was as if they knew how important they were. "Next to Camera, in the Cutting building, the post production process happens." DaGradi span around so he was walking backwards and pointed down at the ground. "Here's a little titbit, many of the buildings are linked together by an underground tunnel, so even in bad weather, the process isn't disrupted." Charlotte was impressed, this place really was as exciting as people said. "And here we are, the main office." Don announced proudly. Charlotte looked back at the lot they had walked down and shook her head in disbelief.

"Incredible." She breathed, taking everything in with wide eyes. "And to think, this all started with a mouse." She joked. When she noticed DaGradi staring at her strangely, she frowned. "What?"

"Nothing, just sounds like something Walt would say." He said, smiling slightly. Charlotte wasn't sure whether that was a compliment or not, but she didn't have time to think about it because Don's next question knocked her feet from under her. "Speaking of, wanna go meet the man himself?" Charlotte's eyes grew even wider. Yes! Yes, of course she wanted to meet him! But then the manners her mother had drilled into her took over and she cleared her throat.

"I don't want to trouble you or him." She said, but Don waved a hand dismissively.

"It's no trouble. Walt always wants to meet new people, especially folks who're working on the pictures." He insisted. Charlotte eyed the building in front of them, trying to supress the excited smile that was threatening to take over any second.

"Alright then." She decide finally and Don cheered happily. Charlotte chuckled at his clowning and followed him up the steps and into the main building. Soon, they were in yet another office area. A short, pretty secretary was sitting behind a desk, talking animatedly on the telephone, but she put it down when she saw them enter.

"Dolly." DaGradi greeted cheerily. The woman smiled sweetly and stood from her seat.

"Hi, Don." She replied, before her eyes turned curiously to Charlotte. DaGradi stepped aside and introduced her with a grand gesture.

"This is Miss. Charlotte Johnson-Liddle. She's our concept artist, gonna help the boys put their music to pictures." He explained. Charlotte smiled at the young woman as she shook her hand and Dolly smiled back.

"Charlotte, it's so nice to meet ya." She greeted her, just as enthusiastically as Don had. "Do you wanna drink? Tea? Coffee? Anything?"

"No, no, thank you. I'm fine." Dolly grinned at her, leaning her elbows on the desk then resting her chin on her palm.

"So, where are you from?" She asked conversationally. Charlotte was about to answer when Don cleared his throat pointedly.

"Dolly, if you could tell Walt we're here." He told the young woman, raising his eyebrow at her. Immediately, Dolly straightened up.

"Right, gotcha." She said, tutting at herself for getting distracted. She smiled at them sweetly before tottering off to fetch the man himself. Don chuckled at Dolly's ditzy ways before remembering something important.

"Oh, before you meet him, just gotta tell you, the guy hates being called Mr. Disney." He told Charlotte, who looked confused.

"So what should I call him?" She asked. Don lowered his eyebrows, his eyes narrowing.

"Well, Walt." He said, as if it were obvious. Her complete look of shock surprised him. Charlotte's eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open, something her mother would have said was very unladylike.

"I couldn't possibly-" She began to say, but a loud cough interrupted her and then a man suddenly came striding into the room.

"You must be Charlotte." He boomed as he met her and Don in the centre of the room. Charlotte gazed up at the man in wonder. Never, in all her life, had she ever thought she would meet Walt Disney himself.

"Yes." She managed after a moment's pause. She took his offered hand and tried to keep her feet on the ground as he vigorously shook it. "It's terribly nice to meet you." She glanced quickly at Don before adding, "Walt." It felt odd, addressing someone by their Christian name after only having just met them. Again, she thought of what her mother might say and felt even more uncomfortable. But she kept up her smile as the larger than life man continued to speak.

"It's nice to meet you too, Charlotte." He said warmly, and she truly felt like he meant it. She'd always admired the magical, fantastic man. She had loved art since she was a young girl, and Disney's films were kindling for the fire of her imagination. He had inspired her, as she was sure he had inspired many other young children. And now, here he was, shaking her hand and beaming away like Father Christmas. "It's always a pleasure to meet the people who're going to be working with me." Charlotte began to smile too, not knowing quite where to look.

"Well, thank you." She replied meekly. Disney looked to Don and clapped his hands together.

"It's her first day, Don, what're you gonna show her?" He asked and the man turned to Charlotte eagerly.

"Well, I gave you a tour of the lot on the way over, so now I'll take you to see your new office and then you can meet the boys." When Charlotte nodded, Walt smiled and patted Don on the shoulder companionably.

"Say hi to them for me." He said, then he looked back at the artist. "I'll see you real soon, Charlotte." He promised, shaking her hand again.

"Goodbye." She said. Walt smiled brightly at her once more before walking back to his office. Don noticed the awestruck look on her face and chuckled.

"Don't worry," He said. "He has that effect on everybody." Just as they were leaving, Charlotte paused in the doorway and called to the secretary.

"Dolly, yes?" She checked, and the woman nodded.

"That's right." She said, grinning brightly back at her.

"It was lovely to meet you." Charlotte said, and she meant it. The little woman seemed enchanting, so bright and bubbly. She made Charlotte feel comfortable just by talking to her.

"You too, Charlotte." Replied Dolly with a little wave.

Charlotte easily kept up with Don's fast pace as they walked through the bright, homely corridors. The walls were lined with photographs of Disney and his employees, artwork from past productions, and awards and certificates, framed with pride. Charlotte just about managed to take them all in before Don stopped outside a redwood door.

"Just through here." He said, gesturing for her to open the door. Charlotte tried to rein in her excitement as she turned the handle and pushed open the door. Once she saw what was inside, the reins slipped from her grasp completely. Charlotte walked forward into the little room with wide eyes. "This is where you'll be working." Said Don as he followed her into the space.

"Oh, wow!" Charlotte breathed as she turned in circles, trying to take in everything at once. The room was small but not cramped, and there was enough room for a wide desk and a comfortable chair with enough space left over to walk around them easily. There was a variety of supplies at her disposal, and they lined the many shelves. Pencils, pens, pastels, charcoals, paints, water colours, glue, scissors, and paper, in all kinds of shapes, sizes and colours. Along the far wall was a wide window that stretched from one end to the other. She could see a quiet road in the distance and right outside was a small grassy area with an array of bright flowers and a tree or two. The bright sunlight shone into the room, lighting up the pots and jars on the shelves so that they cast different coloured lights across the room. The left wall had been left bare and was almost entirely made up of a large board where she could pin her artwork.

"What do you think?" Charlotte turned back to her guide and thought she might burst with happiness.

"It's perfect." She gushed, clutching her suitcase to her chest excitedly. Don chuckled and opened the door again.

"I'm glad you like it." He said. "Now, if you think you can drag yourself away from your office, I'll introduce you to the Shermans." Charlotte _was_ reluctant to leave the room but she wanted to meet the famed brothers too. So she followed Don back out into the corridor and gently closed the door behind her, but not before taking one last look at what was now all hers. They turned left, like they were heading back to Dolly and her office, but they turned another corner before they got too far. Following the chirpy piano music that flowed through the corridors, they eventually reached a door and Don stopped, holding his arm out as a gesture that meant she should go in first. She smiled at him and pushed open the door, the music suddenly getting louder as she did so.

The room was large but quite bare, its only commodities being a few chairs, a table and a piano. Behind the piano stood two men, and it was the shorter of the two who was playing the piano. The music stopped when Don and Charlotte entered the room and the brothers looked up interestedly. "Bob! Dick! Come over here." Don called to them, waving them over. He gave Charlotte a reassuring smile as the brothers drew closer. Her nervousness must have been clear on her face. "I'd like you to meet Charlotte, our new concept artist." Don introduced them and the brothers smiled at her warmly, putting her anxieties at ease. "Charlotte, you'll be working very closely with these two. Bob and Dick Sherman, music and lyrics."

"Hi." Said Bob as he reached forward and shook her hand. He had dark hair, bright blue eyes and a kind smile. Charlotte also noted the walking stick he leaned on heavily and wondered whether he'd gotten it in the war. But it was rude to speculate about that of which you couldn't be sure of, so she put the idea to rest.

"I've heard a lot about you two. You've done some incredible work." She told the brothers. Bob chuckled and turned to DaGradi.

"I like her, she can stay." He said jokingly, making them all laugh.

"You're from England?" Asked the second brother, Dick. He looked younger and a little smilier. Unlike his brother, he had big brown eyes, but he had the same dark hair, styled in a slightly different way.

"London, yes." Charlotte nodded as she shook Dick's hand too.

"Just like our author." Noted Bob with an excited glance at his brother. They were just as eager to meet the woman of the hour as Charlotte.

"Yes, I was wondering when I might speak with Mrs. Travers." She said, turning to Don. He shook his head.

"She'll be here in a few days." He told her. "Until then, you've got some time to work with the boys." He gestured to the table she could rest her things on and she smiled brightly at them.

"Alright then." She walked to the table and placed her small suitcase on top. "How far have you gotten music-wise?" As she spoke, she flicked open the buckles of the suitcase and began to lay its contents out on the table.

"We've gotten pretty far, actually." Said Dick as he moved his way over to the piano. He raised their various pieces of sheet music in the air for her to see. "We've got a basic idea for all of them."

"Oh, fantastic!" Charlotte cried happily. She did like to be organised, so it brought her great joy to know that the brothers had not been idle.

"Some we've developed further than others. It's mostly chronological so it's easier for you to work with." Continued Dick, and he gave her this strange, eager-to-please look, like a child showing a teacher their homework. She hated unnecessary formalities, so she sat down on top of the table instead of a chair to show them she wasn't nearly as uptight and prim as she sounded.

"That's good to know." She said as got herself comfortable. She looked at each man in turn with raised eyebrows. "Shall we begin?" Don patted Bob's shoulder, sending him on his way to the piano.

"Yes, let's!" He cried, happy to start as soon as possible. It seemed everyone here was as excited to make this film as she was.

"So, we thought we'd play you the song and then you could tell us what you think, whether you think something might need adding or changing." Bob explained once he was stood next to the piano. Dick sat down on the piano stool so that just his head appeared over the top.

"Then we'll look over the script and you can draw up a few ideas." He finished. He grinned inanely. "Mary Poppins will start coming to life." Charlotte chuckled.

"How exciting." She nodded encouragingly to the brothers. "Do play me the first song." Dick shuffled the sheets so that the right music was in front. When he was done, he looked expectantly at Don who jumped up from leaning against the wall and grabbed his script from the top of the piano.

"I'll be Bert." He told Charlotte as he found his line in the script. Charlotte giggled at the interaction but settled down when DaGradi began to speak. "All right, ladies and gents!" He called to an imaginary crowd and Charlotte in a bad Cockney accent. "Comical poems suitable for the occasion, extemporized and thought up before your very eyes. Alright, here we go!" He pointed to Dick who began to play and sing. He pounded the keys with gusto, smiling away as he acted it out with all his heart. As he sang to Charlotte, he seemed almost unable to contain himself with glee. Bob occasionally joined in, singing for a word or two, but he was much more controlled as he watched the artist for her reaction.

"Room here for everyone, gather around! The constable's responstable, now how does that sound?" Sang Dick, sending a cheeky grin to Charlotte who laughed at the clever lyrics. "Hello, Miss Lark, I got one for you. Miss Lark likes to walk in the park with Andrew!" Again, Charlotte laughed, much to the Sherman's surprise and delight. "Ah, Mrs. Cory a story for you. Your daughters were shorter than you, but they grew. Dear Miss Persimmon…" The music slowed down considerably and Dick began to play a little more gently now.

"This is the part where Bert stops and looks around. He knows what's coming." Said Don, stepping forward to explain to the artist.

"Or rather, who's coming." Added Dick, making Charlotte's skin prickle. What had once been cheery, marching band music, was now delicate and almost eerie. These boys were good.

"Winds in the East, mist coming in. Like something is brewing, about to begin." Sang Dick, a little lower and quieter than before. "Can't put my finger on what lies in store. But I feel what's to happen, all happened before." Charlotte waited until he had played the last lilting notes of the tune before applauding.

"That was wonderful!" She cried, grinning ecstatically. The three men blew a collective sigh. Charlotte Johnson-Liddle was the first person outside of the three of them to hear their songs. They hadn't even played them to Walt yet. It was a huge weight off their shoulders now that they knew the songs sounded just as good to others as they did to them.

"You liked it?" Bob asked. Charlotte shook her head in disbelief.

"It was perfect." She promised. "It's exactly how I imagined it would be." Dick gave a small smile when he understood what that meant.

"You've read the books too." He realised, nodding his head. She had read the books as a child, just like he and his brother had done. Charlotte locked eyes with him for a moment and eventually began to smile back. Then she coughed awkwardly and looked away again.

"Of course I have. It's hard to find a person who hasn't." She said, waving his comment off. "Especially as I'm working on the film production of it." She gave them all a pointed look. "You've all read it, haven't you?"

"Yes." They all answered immediately. Charlotte smiled, pleased with the power she had.

"Good." She said then she grabbed her paper and began to sketch. "So, Don," She addressed the writer, who jumped up from his seat. "When I read over your script, I really liked the idea of having the first scene out on the street." She continued to draw, her brow creasing with concentration. The brothers tried to peer over from their place by the piano, but didn't want to get caught trying to sneak a peek. "I was thinking it could look a little something..." She finished the drawing and held it up for them to see. "Like this." The men stepped closer to see what she had produced. It was a crude drawing, it had only taken her a couple of seconds, but they could clearly see the beginnings of their film in scratchy pencil markings.

"Yes, I see it." Bob murmured, his eyes roaming over the page. Charlotte looked down at her drawing and began to explain the more important details.

"This is the park here and the lovely, little houses." She drew her finger to the centre of the page where a happy looking figure wearing a one-man-band suit was surrounded by more less detailed figures. "Then here's Bert and his crowd." She looked up, biting her lip nervously. "What do you think?"

"It looks good." Don told her, smiling brightly. He'd known the moment he met her that he liked Charlotte, but now he knew that she'd be perfect for the job too. Charlotte went a little red at the impressed looks on their faces and jumped down from the table.

"It will look even better when I'm done with it." She said, looking down at the paper in front of her. It needed something else, something more. She studied it a little longer before she realised the three men were still standing in front of her table with interest. "You three can continue with the music, I'm going to work on this some more." She said and they instantly relaxed. Don went to sit on the chairs by the piano and drew out his script again, making notes here and there whilst the boys moved onto the next song that needed working on. As Charlotte sat and drew away to her heart's content, she realised just how happy she was. The music playing in the background, the bright sunlight streaming in through the window. She let out a contented sigh and tapped the end of her pencil against her lips as she studied her drawing. It was pretty much finished, she just needed to fill it in. She thought about going back to her office, which she had only seen for a couple of seconds before DaGradi had whisked her away, and was just getting out of her chair when a voice stopped her.

"Do you want a drink?" She looked up to see Dick standing in front of her table, watching her expectantly. "Or something to eat?" Charlotte smiled up at him gratefully.

"I'd love a cup of tea." She said and the man grinned.

"I'll be right back." He promised before walking out of the door. Charlotte was surprised. He had stopped in the middle of a rehearsal to get her a drink she could have easily gotten herself. Plus, when she'd agreed to it, she'd thought perhaps they had drinks here. Now she realised he'd have to go back to the office to Dolly and make it there. A few minutes later, Dick was back with her tea. "One tea for the lovely lady." He said as he carefully passed her the cup. Charlotte hummed happily as his kind gesture warmed her hands.

"Thank you." She murmured, before taking an eager sip. She hadn't realised how thirsty she was. People had been offering her food and drinks left, right and centre ever since she'd stepped off the plane and this was the first time she'd accepted the offer. She smiled up at him appreciatively and asked, "It's Richard, yes?" The man shrugged.

"Well, I go by Dick." He said, then he added. "But Richard's fine, I don't mind." Charlotte gave a huff of laughter and looked down at her cup of tea again. Dick slowly stepped from foot to foot, his hands folded behind his back. He felt shy and awkward, but he didn't quite know why. Charlotte seemed perfectly nice and had been nothing but kind to them since she'd come through the door. And she was, although he _certainly_ hadn't put much thought into it, very pretty. She was around average height with shoulder-length, chestnut brown hair that she seemed to constantly be tucking behind her ear. Her light brown eyes were intelligent and warm, and they seemed to light up when she smiled. Her lips were painted a deep red colour and black eyeliner defined her eyes. "Mm, lovely thank you." She breathed after she'd taken a sip of tea. She stood up from the desk and began to walk towards the door, teacup in hand. "I'm just popping to my office." She said and gave him a little wave before walking to the door. Dick watched her leave, floundering a little before he finally found the words.

"Do- Do you prefer Charlotte or Charlie?" He asked suddenly, returning the courtesy. Charlotte paused in the doorway and looked back at him thoughtfully.

"I've never been given the choice before." She realised, making Dick smile. She looked at him for a moment, titling her head to one side, and those eyes seemed to see straight through him. "Charlie." She decided finally, giving him a bright smile. "Charlie will do fine." Then she was gone.

"Okay. Good." He said to himself, returning the smile even if she couldn't see it. "Charlie." He murmured as he went back to the piano.


	2. Chapter 2

On her second day working for the Walt Disney studios, Charlotte had a considerably bigger spring in her step than the day before. Perhaps it was the bright sunshine, or the knowledge that she had a fun day ahead of her, or merely the fact that her taxi driver hadn't been as determined to travel at warp speed as her last one. That wasn't to say that the older, Chinese-American man who had brought her here was an excellent driver. Everyone in this city seemed set on giving her a vehicle-related injury.

She walked onto the lot with her head held high, sending a polite smile to the wiry man in his cubicle on her way past. The nameless guard grunted and pressed a button in front of him, lifting the barrier for her. She didn't stop into the reception like she had the day before, instead choosing to slowly meander down the lot at her own pace. She was a little early, so she had time to take in more of the sights than yesterday when Don had whizzed her through. Oh, she was happy. This place, it seemed to shine, like she was meant to be here. Charlotte let out a contented sigh as she walked to the main building, swinging her suitcase a little, her portfolio tucked carefully under her other arm. Her lilac dress was new and she'd been looking forward to wearing it. She wanted to blend in with the American women that surrounded her, all bright smiles and perfect hair, so full of joy and excitement. Keeping up with the fashions here was just another attempt to try and successfully integrate herself into Californian life. Although, she couldn't help but worry that all the smiling they did was sure to make their cheeks sore eventually.

As soon as she entered the main building where she and her new colleagues worked, Don DaGradi was there to meet her. Charlotte almost jumped with fright as the beaming man seemed to appear out of nowhere beside her. She put a hand over her chest, trying to calm her thudding heart.

"Good morning." She breathed, giving the man a watered down version of a scolding glare. He hadn't meant to frighten her, in fact he didn't seem to have noticed that he had.

"Good morning!" Replied Don enthusiastically, smiling broadly back at the young woman. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" Charlotte allowed herself a small smile despite the toll of her hectic journey and her near cardiac arrest.

"It's gorgeous." She agreed as they began to walk side by side to the rehearsal room. She found that she enjoyed the American zeal that oozed out of everyone in the company. It was refreshing to work in a place where the employees found joy in their work. "It almost makes up for the taxi here." She added with a bitter cluck of her tongue. Don raised his eyebrows, his hands folded behind his back as they walked down the corridors.

"An interesting journey?" He guessed. Charlotte chuckled.

"You might say that." They turned a left and the rehearsal room came into view, music pouring out of the door that was flung open invitingly. "He seemed very eager to hit every curb as we went round them." The pair laughed as they walked through the open door and Charlotte immediately walked to her table, placing her suitcase and her book down on its clean surface. "But, I'm here now." She sighed happily, turning to the men and clasping her hands together, ready to begin. The Sherman brothers gave her matching, excited grins as they continued to set up their space.

"Ready to get to work?" Bob called as he moved chairs around and out of the way, leaning heavily on his walking stick. Charlotte nodded shortly.

"Ready and raring." She replied brightly, watching as his brother sorted through sheet after sheet of piano music. He eventually managed to get them into some kind of order and put them in their rightful place. Charlotte was suddenly reminded of something she had wanted to show them. "Oh." She muttered to herself, reaching for her portfolio and rifling through it with deft fingers. "The first scene," She told them, turning to the right page and holding it up for them to see. "Is finished." Don eagerly stepped forward to see her artwork and was impressed by what he saw.

"Oh, wow." He murmured, gently taking the large book from her hands and turning the pages gingerly, afraid he might ruin her perfect drawings. The Shermans walked over to see for themselves and were surprised by the amount of care and detail that Charlotte had put into her concept art. The first scene was painstakingly drawn out, giving the set designers a perfect source to work from.

"These look great." Bob praised, glancing up at Charlotte with a genuine smile. Charlotte was a little embarrassed by the compliments she was getting, although it was nice that her hard work was being recognised. She coughed awkwardly and tried not to meet their eyes. She carefully took her portfolio back and turned a couple of pages to show them what she had moved on to next.

"I also began to look at costumes last night and drew up these." She said, and held up the book again. Don's eyes widened in surprise as he took in the drawings. They were beautiful, very imaginative, but he didn't want the young woman doing so much work. It was only her second day, for crying out loud.

"Oh, Charlotte, you shouldn't work too hard in your time off." He told her kindly. Charlotte shrugged her shoulders, a hard task to accomplish in the middle of jumping up and sitting yourself down on a table top.

"I had a burst of inspiration." She said, gently defending her love for her work. She _had _stayed up a little late last night, but she'd just been so incredibly excited. She'd felt like a child on Christmas Eve, and had drawn and drawn until the stars shone. "I just looked at Mary and Bert for now, but I'll start thinking about the children today." Dick shook his head in disbelief as he perused her art, a crooked smile sliding onto his face.

"This is fantastic." He told her earnestly, his first words to her that day. Charlotte remembered that endearing smile from yesterday when he had christened her with a new nickname and fought hard to not let her cheeks redden.

"Thank you." She managed to reply, a smile of her own beginning to appear of its own accord. Dick tilted his head to the side a little to go along with his question.

"Are you going to work in your office today?" He asked her, and Charlotte thought for a moment. It would be nice to sit in her new office and work. She'd gone back there to grab a few art supplies after Dick had given her a cup of tea, but after that she'd stayed in the music room for the duration of the day. She shook her head, tucking a stray curl of hair behind her ear.

"No. I think I'll work in here." She decided finally. She glanced at each of the men in turn. "That is, of course, if it's alright with you."

"That'd be great!" Richard answered for them all, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. He looked at his friend and his brother standing either side of him, twin expressions of surprise and bemusement on their faces. Dick turned back to Charlotte, who had a perfect eyebrow raised, the corner of her red lips tugged into a smirk. "You know, its fine. Cool. Stay if you like." Dick added hurriedly, trying to sound nonchalant, and failing miserably. He ducked his head and went to the piano, sitting down on the old stool and pretending to look busy. Charlotte sent his brother a questioning frown, but he only waggled his eyebrows in response before joining his brother. Don handed her back the portfolio and was about to sit down when a thought struck him.

"Oh, we had some news about Mrs. Travers." Immediately, Charlotte sat up, all her attention on him.

"Oh, yes?" She asked, not even bothering to conceal her excitement. Don began to smile, knowing that she was going to love what he was about to tell her.

"She'll be here tomorrow." He announced happily. Safe to say, they were all surprised when Charlotte shut her portfolio with a heavy snap, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide.

"Tomorrow!" She squeaked. "But... But I've only just got here myself. I haven't nearly enough to show her!"

"It'll be fine, Charlie." Bob told her, trying to calm her down. He shrugged carelessly, showing her there was nothing to worry about. "The first day, she probably won't even want to see anything. She'll talk to Walt then go back to her hotel." Charlotte sucked in a deep breath, squeezing her portfolio with nervous fingers.

"I'd better get a move on anyway." She muttered to herself, placing her work on the table and then hurrying out the door. Bob chuckled while he watched her leave.

"She's nice, isn't she?" He said, turning back their work. He began to scribble some ideas about the next song down on a spare sheet of paper. "I like her." Dick smiled to himself, his fingers tapping the piano keys absentmindedly.

"Yeah, me too." He agreed, his eyes trained on Charlie's empty desk. Robert snorted at the dreamy smile on his brother's face, knowing exactly what that look meant. Dick looked up at Bob, a frown on his face. "What?"

"Nothing." Bob replied innocently, but that knowing smile was still in place. Richard was about to press the matter further when Charlotte came striding back into the room, an all manner of art supplies in her arms.

"Right. Costumes." She announced, more to herself than the others.

As the brothers worked by the piano, Charlotte sat at her table, doodling ideas that would soon develop into final designs. They worked well together, chatting idly as the morning went by. At around eleven o'clock, the Shermans decided to take a quick break as they'd been working all morning. Robert grabbed his walking stick and met Charlotte at her desk. She looked up at him, smiling brightly, and he could see why his brother acted so goofily around her. She had this way of looking at people like they were the most important person in the world, and it almost made him forget what he'd come to ask her.

"I'm going to get something for us to eat, do you want anything?" He eventually asked, taking a sneaky glance down at her drawings which were coming along nicely. The woman had talent, there was no doubt about it. Charlotte nodded.

"I'll have whatever you're having." She said, then paused, her brown eyes narrowing. "So long as it's not... Odd." She added cautiously. It sounded ridiculous, but she had been told many a horror story about how different and strange American food was before she'd left. It seemed like everyone in England had heard a different rumour about the sort of things they served across the pond, and they had all wanted to warn her. She knew it was silly to believe them, but she'd only been in the country for three days, and so she didn't feel like risking anything to out-there yet. Robert didn't question her suspicious expression.

"Nothing odd. You got it." He told her, sending a quick 'oookay' look to Don who shrugged in response. DaGradi decided the musician might need some help with the big order so he sprang from his seat to help him, leaving Dick and Charlotte alone. Charlie watched the two men leave, paying particular attention to Bob's limp and the crutch he leaned on. She didn't want to stare, but she couldn't help being curious. As if he had heard her thoughts, Dick spoke up.

"He was shot." Charlotte jumped, both surprised by his sudden words in the quiet room and embarrassed at having been caught staring. Then she realised she hadn't heard what he'd said and frowned at him, shaking her head slightly.

"I'm sorry?" She asked. Dick nodded to the door his brother and Don had just exited through.

"Bob. That's why he uses that stick." He reiterated, and Charlotte finally understood what he'd meant. She looked back towards the door then back to him quizzically. He knew what she wanted to ask, even if she was too polite to do so. "His unit helped to liberate the Dachau concentration camp." He told her, feeling his chest swell with pride. His brother was a hero, but it had cost him his leg. Charlotte raised her eyebrows with surprise, her lips parting into a smile.

"Wow." She breathed. She'd never have guessed that about Bob. He seemed so quiet and reserved, always watching, letting his younger brother do the talking. She glanced at Richard, who had turned back to his music, then down at her folded hands. Dick had just shared something personal. It was lovely to think that he trusted her enough to tell her these things after less than twenty four hours of knowing each other. She knew she should return the favour, so she cleared her throat and straightened her back, making Dick look up from his sheet music. "My, um, my father died fighting in France when I was nine." She told him, glancing at him nervously to gauge his reaction. Dick looked down respectfully, pressing his lips together.

"I'm sorry." He told her. Charlotte nodded. Everyone was sorry. After the war ended, her mother had tried her hardest to look after her. It had been difficult, they weren't exactly rich before, but with only one income, they were borderline with poverty. But they had muddled through, just like most people had done at the time. Luckily, their street had been missed by the Blitz, so they still had a home and neighbours to look after each other. But her father, who she had loved dearly, was gone forever.

"They said he was helping people get to safety when he was shot." She told him, finding her voice growing a little stronger with pride. "He died helping people. There's no other way he would've wanted it." Dick nodded, smiling sadly at her. Charlotte gazed back at him for a moment with an impassive expression, which meant he couldn't be certain of what she was thinking. She finally smiled back, and it made Richard's stomach somersault. They both heard the clack of Bob's cane on the floor and looked around as he and Don entered the room, their arms laden with food and drink. Don gave Dick his order whilst Bob stood in front of Charlotte's table.

"Croissant." He said proudly, holding the pastry up for her to see. "I hope that's not too odd." He added as he placed the plate carefully down in front of her.

"That's perfect. Thank you, Bob." Charlotte responded, smiling wryly at his good-natured teasing.

"No problem." He said and went back to the piano. Charlotte watched him walking away, studying the way he leaned on his cane, unaware that someone was watching her too. Dick licked his lips nervously, worried of what she might do with the information he'd given her. But in the end, he found he had nothing to worry about. Charlotte only smiled to herself then turned her attention back to her drawing. She understood, as so many did, what it was like to have your life affected by the war. Her father had been taken from her, and his brother had almost had the same fate. Dick continued with his work, wanting to get as much done before Mrs. Travers' arrival as possible, but every so often, when he thought no one was looking, he would steal a glance at the beautiful, young woman who sat at the other end of the room, and smile at the connection they had forged. Little did he know, Charlotte did exactly the same thing.

A few hours had passed, and Charlotte was almost done with her drawing. Designing costumes was one of her favourite parts of her job. She loved learning about a character and then expressing their personality through what they wore. Although, this time, it was a little different. Mrs. Travers' books had illustrations and that made Charlotte nervous. She didn't want to copy what the publishers had chosen, but at the same time, the author had approved those designs, so surely she must have liked them. What if she didn't like the designs Charlotte had come up with? Charlie chewed on her lip as she studied her drawing. Jane, Michael and Bert were relatively easy to design, but then there was the lady herself. Mary Poppins was an icon, a beacon. There was an incredible amount of pressure to get her just right, not only through what she looked like, but through the writing and the music as well. She glanced up at the three men she shared the room with and was glad to see they were all at ease. Perhaps she was being too hard on herself. She glanced at the clock on the wall and realised she had been working for four hours straight. She had definitely earned a break. Don glanced up from his own little drawing pad as Charlie approached and he smiled at her. She sat down next to him on a spare chair and together they watched the Shermans play.

"What is it that you're working on?" She asked after a moment. Dick reached forward and held up their music over the top of the piano for her to see.

"We're writing the music for 'The Perfect Nanny'." He told her, and was glad to see her smile.

"Oh, excellent." She said happily. That had been one of her favourite parts in the book, when the children listed off what they wanted from their nanny. All those clever words and silly rhymes had made her giggle as a child, she hoped they had done it justice.

"We've got the basic tune, but it's missing something." Added Bob from his chair, his fingers drumming the arm as he thought. Charlotte sat back in her own chair comfortably as she looked between them.

"What have you got so far?" She asked, hoping that she and Don might be able to help them in some way or another. Dick turned in his seat and settled himself more comfortably before clearing his throat.

"Wanted: A nanny for two adorable children." He began grandly, sending a cheeky wink to Charlotte. Thankfully, she chuckled at his risky move and he breathed a silent sigh of relief to himself before he continued to play. "If you want this choice position, have a cheery disposition. Rosy cheeks, no warts! Play games, all sorts." Bob had got up as his brother played and now stood beside him, leaning on the top of the piano as he sang the next lines of the song.

"You must be kind, you must be witty. Very sweet and fairly pretty. Take us on outings, give us treats. Sing songs, bring sweets." Charlotte nodded and turned her head to Don slightly.

"That is very important." She murmured, making the older man chuckle. Richard played a little softer, not wanting to get out of rhythm whilst he asked Charlie a question.

"Did you have a nanny growing up?" He asked her interestedly. He'd heard what she'd said to Don and made the assumption, but Charlotte shook her head.

"Oh, dear, no." She said, seeming to find the idea quite amusing. "No, we certainly couldn't afford one." She gestured to Don's notepad as she continued to speak and he nodded, passing her the book so that she could look through it. "My mother looked after me until I was eleven, and by then, I could take care of myself well enough for her to go back to work." She told them as she turned the pages of Don's notebook. Inside were little drawings, doodles of what the writer saw around him: the piano, the table with their glasses of water on it, the view outside. It was nice to see another artist's work, and she liked that she had yet another thing to talk to him about. She looked up as a thought struck her, her lips parted slightly. "I can't imagine what it must be like to not have your parents around." She murmured, her eyes seeming to stare into space as she thought. Then she frowned. "Now there's a good question, where is the children's mother? Why can't she look after them?" Beside her, Don shrugged.

"We don't know." He said, and there was a little sadness to his voice. Obviously he had thought about it as well.

"I don't think it's mentioned in the books." Added Robert and his brother nodded in agreement. Charlotte bit her lip thoughtfully, and Dick pretended he wasn't looking.

"Hm, I shall have to think about that." She said quietly. After a moment, she seemed to suddenly wake up from her thoughts and gestured for Richard to continue the song with an apologetic smile.

"If you won't scold and dominate us, we will never give you cause to hate us. We won't hide your spectacles so you can't see. Put toads in your bed or pepper in your tea." Charlotte and Don both chuckled at the funny lyrics which the Shermans were glad to see. The film targeted all ages, from young children to adults, so it was a relief to see that their work entertained the trickier of the two categories. "Hurry, Nanny..." Dick stopped playing then, his usually bright and cheery expression falling into dismay. "And that's- That's where we're stuck." He told them wearily. He began to play again, trying to think up the next couple of lines. "Hurry, Nanny... Please come quick..." He shook his head as he spoke to his brother. "No, I don't think so." Robert leaned further forward and reread what they had already written, hoping to get a spark of inspiration.

"What about..." But Charlotte watched as he tutted, drumming his fingers on the piano top agitatedly. "No, because we already mentioned that earlier. Unless we changed this part around?"

"But then where would this go?"

"You're right." Don looked down at Charlotte, his eyebrows raised.

"What do you think?" He asked her quietly, so as not to disturb the brothers. Charlotte frowned playfully back at the writer, confused as to why he thought she had any knowledge of music whatsoever. But he was persistent in his eyebrow raising and meaningful looks so Charlotte gave in with a quiet laugh.

"Hurry, Nanny..." She murmured, repeating what Dick had said earlier. She shrugged, only being to think of one ending and it was terribly silly. "Hurry, Nanny. Many thanks. Sincerely, Jane and Michael Banks." She suggested. Immediately, the piano music ceased.

"Say that again." Dick said suddenly, making Charlie jump. She frowned at the younger brother, shaking her head in confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

"What you just said, say it again." Richard smiled at her encouragingly, waving his hand as if trying to coax the idea from her lips again. Charlotte shot Don a confused sideways glance, but repeated her words all the same.

"Hurry, Nanny. Many thanks. Sincerely, Jane and Michael Banks?" Dick turned to his brother who looked just as surprised as he did.

"Where did you get that from?" He asked quickly, beginning to grow excited. Charlotte shrugged her shoulders, not comfortable with all the attention she was suddenly getting.

"Well, it's a sort of letter isn't it? To the nannies?" She told them, her red lips twisted with uncertainty. "You always end a letter with 'yours sincerely'. And 'thanks' rhymed with 'Banks' so..." She glanced at all of them in turn, not quite sure whether what was happening was good or bad for her. "Have I said something stupid?" She asked slowly. Dick shook his head hurriedly.

"No, not at all! You've said something wonderful!" He assured her, an enormous smile on his face. Robert looked just as excited and he tapped the sheet music in front of Dick.

"Write that down." Richard did so and then sat back on the piano stool, his fingers poised to play.

"Hurry, Nanny. Many thanks. Sincerely, Jane and Michael Banks." He sang, then ended the song with a bright flourish of notes. He laughed happily, eyes shining as he turned to Charlie. "Thank you." He told her, and Charlotte felt her face go red from the impossibly earnest and sincere look of gratitude that he gave her.

"I didn't do anything. I think I remember that from the book." She said modestly, not wanting to take any credit for something she didn't come up with. Bob shrugged and sat back down in his armchair.

"Either way, we've finished another song." He said happily as he settled back into the comfortable chair, their newly finished sheet music on his lap to edit and clean up. Dick smiled brightly at Charlie.

"You should draw in here every day." He said, trying to get her to smile again and revelling silently when he succeeded. Charlotte raised her eyebrows, shrugging her shoulder nonchalantly.

"Perhaps I will." She replied silkily, returning Dick's smile in such a way that Don felt like he'd stumbled into the middle of something private. The Shermans went back to their music after a short break but Charlotte remained in her seat next to DaGradi, just happy to listen to them work. After a few minutes, she felt Don shift in his chair, trying to get into a comfortable position so he could start to doodle again.

"And, hey, about their mom, I don't think you should put too much thought into it." He told her quietly. Charlotte frowned, ducking her head so that they could murmur to each other without disturbing the boys.

"You don't? Aren't you curious?" Don shrugged noncommittally.

"Sure I am. I'm sure Mrs. Banks is a wonderful lady. But sometimes, you know, the ones you love aren't always going to be there." He told her. He didn't look up from his pencil drawing, so he didn't see Charlotte's face fall or her eyes drop to the floor. "That's part of the reason why Mary Poppins comes after all, isn't it?" He added lightly, finally looking up at her. When he saw her despondent expression, he immediately stopped what he was doing to focus on the woman. "Charlie?" He spoke quietly still. "Are you alright?" Charlotte nodded her head, although he knew she was lying.

"I'm fine. I'm just, er-" She cleared her throat, her hands resting on the arms of her chair, her fingers clenching the material tight. "I'm just going to get some fresh air." She decided finally and quickly jumped from her seat. She didn't look at him as she hurried out of the door. Don frowned as he watched her leave then turned to the brothers who had stopped their work to see what the matter was.

"What did I say?" Don asked them, worried that he'd unwittingly upset her in some way.

Charlotte kept her head down as she hurried through the corridors. Her eyes felt hot, her throat tight, but she didn't dare cry. Don's words had struck a serious chord, and there was only thing she wanted to do right now. She quickly reached the office and gave Dolly a watery smile. She asked to use the phone and the petite woman instantly obliged with a sympathetic smile, recognising the sadness in her friend's eyes. She left Charlie alone so she could make the call in private, and she was thankful for it. It was embarrassing enough that she'd fled from the rehearsal room so suddenly, she didn't want anyone to know why. She spoke quickly but clearly to directory inquiries, knowing that these lines were easy to cross. "Yes: four, five, three, one." She repeated to the chirpy woman on the other end of the telephone. She nodded. "That's right." There was a familiar whirring then a blunt click before she was put through. Three rings were followed by another click as the telephone was removed from the handset.

"Four, five, three, one?" Charlotte smiled when she heard the voice she had missed so much.

"Mum?" Immediately, the business-like tone disappeared and was replaced by her mother's usual, excited voice.

"Charlotte! I wasn't expecting a telephone call from you." Charlotte pushed the phone harder against her ear so that she could hear her better. The connection was bad, her mother's voice crackled through the phone, but she could just about hear her.

"I thought I'd better ring and tell you that I've arrived and that I'm all settled." She explained, taking a seat on the edge of Dolly's desk. Her mother hummed in agreement, the sound making the speaker frazzle slightly.

"Oh, good." She said, and Charlie could practically see her settling back in her old armchair. "I was worried about that American air. You know they have different diseases than we do, don't you?" Charlotte rolled her eyes.

"Yes, mum." She replied routinely. Her mother, just like every other English person her age, had an entrenched belief that everything and everyone that wasn't from the surrounding neighbourhood was something to be wary of. For the most part, it was just best to agree with her.

"You should be careful." Her mother continued with the well-informed tone that Charlie only ever heard after she'd been talking to their know-it-all neighbour, Mrs. Johnson, a nosey and gossiping old woman. "Don't eat anything that you don't see them cooking." Charlotte chuckled, she knew that if she talked to her mother, only if for a few minutes, she would instantly feel better. She missed her terribly, it had only been her and her mum for a long time and she felt incredibly lonely without her. When Don had started talking about loved ones not being around forever, she'd grown terribly sad. All she needed was to hear her mother talk, especially the usual nonsense she came out with, and she felt as right as rain again.

"I'm sure it'll be fine, mum." She reasoned, but her mother tutted still.

"You never know with these people, Charlotte." She replied haughtily, making Charlotte laugh again. From just down the hall, Dolly smiled to herself. She hadn't gone far, just in case Walt needed her for anything, but she hadn't wanted to intrude in Charlotte's private phone call. She was glad she was feeling better, she didn't like to see anyone look as sad as Charlotte had a few minutes ago.

"I'll be okay." Charlotte murmured, not realising her mistake until it was too late.

"You will be _alright_." She corrected her, and Charlotte marvelled at her own ability to get herself in trouble even when she was thousands of miles away. Her mother sighed disdainfully. "I knew going to America was a bad idea, you've already started to speak like them." Charlotte laughed again and shook her head.

"I miss you, mum." She said quietly after a moment. On the other end of the telephone, her mother smiled.

"I miss you too, sweetheart." She replied, a hint of worry in her voice. Charlotte sounded so quiet, so unhappy. Before she got a chance to ask her what was wrong, her daughter had a questions for her.

"How did the doctor's go?" Charlie asked, choking slightly on her words. He mother instantly began to wave off her inquiry.

"Oh, I don't want you worrying about that, darling." She said airily, obviously avoiding the question. Charlotte bit her lip.

"But-"

"No buts! You have very important work to do, I don't want your head to be filled with worry." There was silence for a moment at both ends of the telephone. Her mother's recent appointments with the doctor were incredibly harrowing, and her illness had almost stopped Charlotte from accepting the job. But her mum had insisted, and here she was. It wasn't often that her mother didn't get her way. Charlotte looked around her, making sure that no one was listening in, then frowned, the silence having stretched on longer than she had anticipated. Then her mum spoke again, relaxing her nerves. "Have you spotted him yet?" Charlotte grinned, all that worry and anxiety leaving her just as quickly as it had set in.

"Mother, I talked to him." She told her happily and her mum let out a cry of joy.

"How wonderful! You lucky girl. What is he like?" Charlotte shook her head, leaning her weight back on her free hand and smiled to herself.

"Just as amazing as we thought he'd be." She murmured, remembering what it had been like to talk to the man who sat only a few metres from where she was now. Her mother knew about her admiration for Walt Disney, she hadn't stopped talking about his films since she was a young girl.

"Oh, excellent." She was pleased that her daughter was finally doing something she loved. She paused for a moment before asking, "And Mrs. Travers?" Charlotte smiled knowingly to herself,

"She'll be here tomorrow." She told her.

"And you've got my..?"

"Yes, mum."

"Now, I don't want you to pressure the woman." Charlotte giggled at her mum's uncharacteristic nervousness.

"I'm sure it'll be fine." She assured her. That seemed to appease the older woman and she sighed contentedly. Then she brought out the question that had been on her lips for many years.

"Now, more importantly," She began, and Charlotte instantly knew how her sentence was going to end and dreaded every word of it. "Have you found yourself a husband yet?"

"Goodbye, mum!" Charlotte laughed, tactfully avoiding her mother's favourite question. Her mum chuckled too, glad that she had cheered up her only daughter.

"Goodbye. Call again soon." Charlotte nodded, even if she couldn't see her.

"I will, I promise." And she meant it, she truly did. Her mother was the most important person in her life and she'd be lost without her. She'd be miserable if they didn't talk to each other often. She smiled sadly and slid off Dolly's desk. "Bye." Her mother repeated the word back to her and then she was gone. Charlie shook her head and carefully placed the phone back on the handset. She certainly felt better after having spoken to her, Don's words had really knocked her for six. She took in a long, calming breath and was about to walk back to the music room when she heard someone call her name.

"Charlie, are you okay?" She turned to see Dick standing in the doorway to the office, his face wrought with concern. Charlotte smiled reassuringly at him.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." She promised, and Dick looked relieved. She didn't know why, but knowing he had worried about her made her heart flutter.

"Oh, okay, it's just you ran off pretty fast." He said, smiling crookedly back at her. He stepped further into the room and stood next to her by the desk, his hands shoved awkwardly in his trouser pockets.

"No, I'm fine, really I am." Charlotte persisted kindly. She nodded down at the machine on Dolly's desk. "I just got off the telephone with my mother." She told him. Dick raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, yeah?" Charlotte smiled coyly.

"She wants me to get Mrs. Travers' autograph. She sent me here with her love and her old copy of Mary Poppins." She explained, knowing that she'd never hear the end of it if her mother ever found out she had revealed her secret. Dick was surprised.

"Really? She likes them too?" Charlotte thought for a moment, her fingers tracing shapes on the wooden desk next to her.

"I think... I think they're the sort of books that anyone can read." She mused quietly. Dick nodded his head enthusiastically.

"I totally agree." He told her, making Charlie smile. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the rehearsal room. "Me and Bob read them together when we were kids and our dad heard us reading aloud one day and asked to see what it was. He read the whole book from cover to cover in five minutes flat." They both laughed and Dick was glad that she was feeling better about whatever it was that had made her leave the room in such a hurry. They were walking side by side back to the music room to get on with their work when Charlotte looked up at him, a nervous look on her pretty face.

"What do you think she'll be like, Richard?" She asked him quietly. Dick thought for a moment before smiling radiantly back at her.

"I'm sure she's going to be wonderful."


	3. Chapter 3

Bob rolled his eyes when he saw his brother was fretfully peering at the front entrance to the studios again, even standing on his toes to get a better look. It was late in the morning, almost midday, and Mrs. Travers would be there any minute. They were all waiting impatiently for their author, dressed in their best suits in an attempt to impress her. Well, they were all there, except Charlotte. Dick looked down to the other end of the lot, wondering if she might have come through the back entrance, but there was still no sign of her. He turned back to the main entrance, chewing the inside of his cheek nervously.

"You look like a meerkat." Bob pointed out, watching the way his brother anxiously looked about with an amused smile. When Richard didn't laugh, he shook his head. "Don't worry, she'll be here soon." He assured him, but Dick still looked concerned.

"She doesn't seem like the kind of person who likes to be late." He replied quietly, glancing back the other way again. Bob shared a knowing look with Don when something over the writer's shoulder caught his eye.

"Here she is!" He announced, pointing to the main entrance to the lot. They all turned to see what he was talking about and were relieved to see Charlie walking towards them as quickly as all her manners would allow. Richard probably could have done a much better job of hiding how he relieved he was, but he was just so happy to see her. He knew how much she wanted to meet Mrs. Travers, she would have been miserable if she'd missed her.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't get a taxi." Charlotte gasped once she met them on the steps. She rested her hands on her hips and sucked in a huge breath, trying to get her lungs working properly again. "Am I late?" She managed to croak out.

"You're just in time." Don told her, much to Charlotte's relief. "She's on her way." She grinned breathlessly despite her frantic morning. Her hair was all over the place, her make-up was a little smudged and her new dress needed adjusting from where she'd been running, but she was happy and nothing could ruin that.

"How exciting." She gushed as she tried to sort out her appearance as quickly and effectively as possible. Don and Bob moved away to stand on watch but Dick stayed with Charlie as she straightened out her clothes. "Good morning." She said brightly and Richard grinned.

"Good morning." He replied. "How're you feeling today?" Charlie nodded as she reached up to fix her hair, her curls having come loose from the perfect bun she had twisted them into. Dick watched as she expertly fixed her hair with no small amount of admiration.

"Good, actually. Very good." She said, nodding her head with a slight smile. "You?" Dick chuckled.

"Better now." He said, before realising his mistake. Charlie raised her eyebrows and Richard immediately baulked. "Better now that Mrs. Travers is going to be here soon." He added hurriedly. "I've- _We've_ been really nervous." Charlotte finished straightening herself out and began to search for her suitcase and book which she'd dropped in her hurry.

"It'll be fine. Like you said, I'm sure she's going to be wonderful." She told him kindly as she scanned the ground, swivelling in circles before she finally spotted them. Dick was just helping her gather up her things when a sleek, shiny black car pulled into the lot. The four figures immediately formed a line, almost like they were standing to attention. As the car pulled up next to them, Don and Richard bent down a little to wave to the woman seated in the back. "Here we go." Charlotte murmured to herself as the driver quickly jumped out of his seat.

"I'll get that, sir!" He cried, stopping Don from opening the doors as he rounded the car.

"You got it?" Charlotte glanced quickly up at Dick who stood on her left and found that he was already looking at her. Her nervousness must have been showing because he gave her an encouraging smile before they both returned their attentions to the author. "Good morning, Pamela!" Don greeted with gusto. The older woman frowned at the writer's words.

"It is so discomfiting to hear a perfect stranger use my first name. Mrs. Travers, please." She told him firmly, surprising them all with her coldness. She was a petite woman of around sixty with tight brown curls and a turned down mouth that made her appear constantly disenchanted with her surroundings. Don blinked once or twice in surprise but quickly caught himself again.

"I do apologise, Mrs. Travers." He said hurriedly. "I am Don DaGradi, the script writer."

"_Co_-script writer." She corrected him shortly. "I shall certainly be having my say, Mr. DiGraydi."

"_DaGradi_." It was his turn to correct her as she mispronounced his name, although she didn't seem all that bothered. Charlotte saw the brothers share an uneasy glance out of the corner of her eye. "Uh, wonderful! I welcome your input."

"If indeed we ever sign off on a script." Replied Mrs. Travers, giving Don a strange, tight smile that made Charlotte a little nervous.

"Right, uh..." Don faltered, suddenly finding himself at a loss for words. This woman was not at all what he had expected. He suddenly remembered he hadn't yet introduced the trio beside him and swept an arm to the side, his easy smile back in place. "This is the rest of your team. This is Dick and Bob Sherman, music and lyrics, and Charlotte Johnson-Liddle, our concept artist." He introduced them all. "Guys, the one and only Mrs. P. L. Travers, creator of our beloved Mary."

"Poppins." Added Mrs. Travers curtly. Don laughed falsely, trying to keep his smile in place.

"Who else?" He joked, glancing uneasily between Pamela and the others.

"Mary Poppins. Never ever just Mary." She told him resolutely before moving on. She shook Dick's offered hand and gave him a polite smile. "Pleasure to meet you." She said as she moved down the line, taking Charlie's hand and then Bob's. "Though I fear we shan't be acquainted for too long." Robert frowned, still in the process of shaking her hand.

"Why is that?" He asked quizzically. The author pursed her lips and tilted her head,

"Because these books simply do not lend themselves to chirping and prancing." She distastefully informed the musicians. She shook her head. "No. Certainly not a musical." She smiled briefly at Charlotte again before looking back to Don. If she saw Bob and Dick's faces fall, she certainly didn't show it, or perhaps she didn't care. It wouldn't surprise Charlie. This woman was a lot sharper and stonier than she thought she'd be. "Now, where is Mr. Disney? I should so much like to get this started and finished as briskly as is humanly possible." She looked back at the musicians expectantly. "Perhaps, one of you can point me in his direction. I'd be so grateful." Dick pointed the way to the main office like she'd asked and Mrs. Travers smiled gratefully. "Thank you." She began to walk in the direction Richard had indicated, leaving the four figures mystified.

"We were hoping to give you a little tour of the studio." Don called after her. Pamela stopped and shook her head.

"No, thank you." She said politely yet firmly, a very English look that Charlotte knew well. Don's smile faltered and he shrugged his shoulders a little.

"Walt just wanted to show the place off." He told her, trying hard not to sound as disappointed as he felt. Mrs. Travers inclined her head pointedly and gave him a stern look.

"No one likes a show off." She said in a tone usually reserved for mothers when talking to their young children. Then she was off again, striding down the lot determinedly. Don looked helplessly to the others before he was hurrying after the author.

"Mrs. Travers, it's quite a long way!" Charlotte heard him call as he tried to catch up with the woman. The three left behind all stared after them in varying stages of shock and confusion. Dick looked to his brother and Charlie fearfully.

"Not a musical?" He repeated Mrs. Travers' words and Charlotte shook her head.

"No." She said slowly, trying to reassure the musician, but she couldn't be sure. Mrs. Travers had seemed very adamant, but surely she was mistaken? They suddenly realised they were being left behind and hurried after Don, who was trying to persuade Pamela into one of the lot's golf carts. She and Don sat in front whilst Bob, Dick and Charlotte all squeezed into the back seat.

"I am perfectly capable of walking." Mrs. Travers grumbled as they sped off down the lot, the little car whirring happily. As they rounded a sharp bend, Pamela reached up and grabbed onto the roof of the car to stop herself from falling out, but Charlotte, who was sat on the far seat, didn't have anything to hold onto. In fact, she would have toppled out if it weren't for Richard.

"Woah!" He cried, quickly reaching forward and wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her back into her seat. He chuckled as he looked down at her, his arm still around her. "You good?" He asked her. Charlie laughed too.

"Yes, I'm… Good." She replied, repeating his words hesitantly. They sounded odd coming from her own mouth. Her mother clearly didn't have much to worry about her starting to sound too American if it all sounded like that coming from her. As they sped towards the lot, all of Charlotte's anxieties about Mrs. Travers were forgotten and replaced by a very different worry. All she could think about was Dick's arm still wrapped protectively around her waist to keep her steady and how natural it felt to be this close to him. Thankfully, she didn't have much time to ponder over it for long, because as soon as the golf cart stopped, Mrs. Travers jumped out, wanting to get away from the vehicle as quickly as possible. She marched up the steps to the main building, somehow knowing the way without their guidance. They followed Mrs. Travers to the reception and Dolly immediately jumped up from her seat.

"Good morning." She greeted happily.

"Good morning, Dolly-" Don's reply was drowned out by Mrs. Travers' impertinent request.

"Could you let Mr. Disney know I have arrived, please?" She said briskly. Dolly didn't look at all fazed by Pamela's abruptness. She had obviously experienced her fair share of assertive people, having worked as a secretary here for some time, and Charlie couldn't help but envy her nerves of steel.

"Absolutely, please have a seat." She replied with practised politeness. But Mrs. Travers shook her head.

"Oh, no. There's no need." She said, making Dolly falter a little. She glanced at Don, silently asking for help and he stepped in.

"He'll be just a moment, Mrs. Travers." He told her carefully. He gestured to the seats available. "Why don't we sit?" Mrs. Travers didn't seem all that impressed at not getting her way, and she tutted but sat down all the same. Charlotte looked about and noticed that the Shermans had managed to slip away. They'd obviously taken one last reproachful glance at Mrs. Travers before going back to the rehearsal room. They would claim they were going to work some more, but Charlotte suspected that they just wanted to get out of Pamela's way. Don had noticed too and looked a little panicked at having been left alone with the curmudgeonly author, so when Charlie tried to sneak away after them, he caught her arm and pulled her onto the sofa next to him. Charlie swore under her breath but didn't try to escape again, choosing instead to begrudgingly straighten out a crease in her dress whilst Don warned Mrs. Travers. "A word of advice, Mrs. Travers, if I may?"

"You may." She replied curtly. "Whether I heed it or not will be another matter entirely." Don felt slightly dazed by her sharp words.

"Wow." He murmured, making Charlotte smile slightly. "Um. It's just that he can't stand being called Mr. Disney. We're all on a first name basis here." He explained, giving her the same warning he had given Charlie on her first day. She wasn't able to see Mrs. Travers' most likely unimpressed expression, because a loud cough caught all their attentions. Don and Charlotte instantly sprang to their feet at the sound, knowing exactly what it signified whilst Pamela stood up a little slower, her bag clutched tightly to her chest. Walt Disney suddenly rounded the corner and beamed at them all.

"Well, there you are at last!" He cried, hurtling towards Mrs. Travers and startling her a little with his energy. "Oh, my dear gal! You can't imagine how excited I am to finally meet you!" He told her, taking her hand in his warmly. Mrs. Travers faltered a little, put off by the bundle of kinetic energy that was Walt.

"Well, it's an honour, Mr. Disney." She replied politely. The man frowned, shaking his head.

"Oh, Walt. You gotta call me Walt." He told her, just as Don said he would. "Mr. Disney was my old man. Isn't that right, Don?" The writer grinned,

"Absolutely, Walt." He replied. Walt turned to Charlotte, and it felt like a spotlight was shining on her.

"And Charlotte, lovely to see you again." He said kindly. She couldn't quite manage words, so she chose to beam back at him just as warmly. Walt ushered the author to his office and the door clicked shut without a backward glance from either of them. Don and Charlotte stood, slightly slack-jawed, not sure whether or not they had imagined all that had transpired in the last five minutes.

"Well..." Charlotte said after a considerable silence. "She seems..."

"Uh huh." Don's eyes were wide behind his square glasses. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to wake himself from a daydream. "C'mon." He muttered.

As soon as they walked through the door of the music room, Charlotte and Don were bombarded with questions from the outraged brothers. Bob was far more animated than Dick, who looked more despondent than angry.

"Did she mean it?" Bob demanded. "Really? Not a musical?" Don raised his hands, trying to calm the musician down.

"Maybe she was confused?" He offered, but Charlotte snorted as she walked past them to the window where Dick stood.

"She seemed pretty certain to me." She said bitterly. She stopped next to Richard, who was looking pensively out of the window, not getting involved in the brewing argument they had their backs to.

"That can't be Mrs. Travers." Bob cried, banging his walking stick on the ground. "How can anyone that rude write a book like Mary Poppins? A children's book!" She heard Don trying to offer some sort of consolation, but she tuned them out, choosing instead to focus on the younger Sherman.

"Are you alright?" She asked him quietly. He looked up at her and seemed to come away from whatever it was that had kept him so thoughtfully silent.

"Yeah, yeah, she's just..." He glanced towards the door, not knowing what to say. Charlotte smiled sadly.

"Not quite what you were expecting?" She guessed. Dick smiled sheepishly and looked back out of the window at the cars and trees and people below.

"Yeah." He murmured, his clever fingers toying childishly with the window latch just for something to do. Charlie nodded and turned to look out the window as well.

"Me too." She told him softly. She shrugged, trying desperately to come up with a solution to the problem that was Mrs. Travers. "Perhaps she's just nervous? I mean, this is all new to her, isn't it?" She leaned towards him and gently nudged his arm with hers, trying to make him smile that gorgeous, boundless smile of his. "She might surprise us." She added with a slight shrug. Dick did smile, and it took away some of her nervousness. Richard was usually so bright and cheerful, it was strange to see him so down.

"I hope you're right." He said, smirking at her in a way that made her face a little hot. Charlotte let out a long breath and nodded her head.

"So do I." She replied and Dick chuckled. She had succeeded in cheering him up and he was incredibly grateful. Neither of his colleagues had seemed to notice his despondency, not even his older brother, but Charlie had, she'd noticed, and the thought made him impossibly happy. Feeling much more encouraged by her words and consequently a lot braver, he gave her a kind, although slightly timid, smile.

"You look... You look lovely today." He told her quietly. Charlotte looked away from the window and back at him, clearly surprised. But before he could say anything to retract his words, she gave him a sly smile.

"I look lovely every day, Richard." She replied and Dick immediately panicked.

"I know! I know, it's just today, maybe you seem, uh…" Charlotte reached out a gentle hand, her fingers squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

"I was joking, it's alright, don't panic." She teased, that red smile of hers as enticing as ever. "Thank you, you look rather handsome yourself." She added, looking him up and down before walking away to talk to Don. Mrs. Travers had just bustled her way into the room and Charlie wasn't sure what to do with herself.

"Right, right, okay." Richard mumbled awkwardly as he watched her walk away. He only just stopped himself from banging his head against the wall, frustrated with his own inarticulacy. Charlotte touched Don's elbow to get his attention whilst he went to work setting up the tape recorder that had been brought in. Apparently, one of Pamela's many demands was that she wanted every reading and every point she made on tape, so Walt had complied. He really wanted to make this picture.

"Don, I don't know if I should stay." She said, glancing nervously at Mrs. Travers. The woman was settling herself down at what was usually Charlotte's desk, but it was now covered with an all manner of food that Dolly had brought in, the scripts they were reading from, and the clunky tape recorder. Don sighed as he jabbed at a button on the machine, obviously perturbed at having to use the thing at every meeting.

"It's up to you, but I think we might need the moral support." He said, nodding at the Shermans who were talking quietly amongst themselves at the table. Charlotte nodded then left him to the machine. She thought about staying, she could sit in a chair and do her work, but her quiet, comfortable office called to her like a siren. She was on the fence, right up until Mrs. Travers spoke again.

"What is all this... Jollification?" She squawked, gesturing disdainfully at the food Dolly was painstakingly laying out for them on the table.

"We have a whole script to get through." Don said, and she could hear the annoyed layer to his voice even if Pamela couldn't. He sat down on his chair and shuffled his papers. "It's gonna be a long day Mrs T. Mrs... Mrs. Travers." He faltered under the heated the writer shot him.

"We could save a starving country with benefaction from this room alone!" Mrs. Travers cried, shaking her head in disgust. "It's just- Ugh. It's so vulgar." Right, problem solved, her mind was made up. Charlotte couldn't sit in here and listen to Mrs. Travers complain any longer. In fact, she was on her way towards the door when a voice called after her.

"Charlie?" Charlotte winced, knowing that her chances of leaving were quickly diminishing. She turned on her heel to face Richard, the one who had stopped her. "Are you leaving?" He asked, and his dark brown eyes were so big and pleading she felt her heart melt. Damn. Charlotte glanced toward the door and freedom then back at the table, where all three of her colleagues were now giving her matching, pleading looks. She sighed and her shoulders slumped defeatedly.

"I'll be back in a few minutes." She promised them before she turned and walked from the room. Dick watched her leave with a relieved smile but was quickly called back to attention when his brother kicked his ankle under the table.

"Could you turn on..." Mrs. Travers asked, pointing to the tape recorder. Don jumped and made sure that the machine was recording and nodded to the author. She cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows at the men. "Now, let us begin." She announced and they eagerly turned the pages of their scripts. Don began to read the scene heading aloud, but so did Mrs. Travers. Both Dick and his brother watched awkwardly as both writers fought to be heard over the other. "Scene one. Ext. Cherry Tree Lane." Pamela was the first to relent but only to ask a question. "Ext? What's Ext?"

"Exterior." Don explained patiently. "It means the scene takes place outside."

"Oh, I see, it's an abbreviation." Said the author, making a note on her script. She glanced at Don pointedly. "Oh, I'm sorry Mr. DaGradi, did you feel you should..?" Don wanted desperately to call her bluff, but he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he did. Instead, he smiled thinly at the older woman.

"Oh, please be my guest, Mrs. Travers." He offered, much to the Sherman's relief. Mrs. Travers nodded.

"Yes, I do think it's best. I have the most practice. Readings of my books, you know?" She said primly and Don pressed his lips together tightly.

"Absolutely." He agreed falsely, though Pamela didn't seem to recognise the disdain in his voice, either that or she ignored it.

"Anyway." She continued briskly. Dick glanced up as the door swung open and Charlie walked back in, paper and pencil in hand. She caught his eye as she settled in a chair behind Mrs. Travers and sent him a warm smile of encouragement. "Scene one. Exterior. Seventeen Cherry Tree Lane. London. Day. Yes, that's good, that can stay." Mrs. Travers' words knocked him back into reality and he frowned at the older woman.

"That's just the scene heading." He told her, but Mrs. Travers ignored him.

"Though I do think we should say _number_ seventeen, instead of just seventeen. It's proper, yes?" Bob and Dick both sighed.

"No one's gonna see it." They said simultaneously, and Charlie glanced up, surprised at the irritation in their voices. Mrs. Travers pursed her lips smugly.

"I will see it." She replied, and Charlie couldn't help but think the power of being co-writer had gone to her head slightly. "Write it down. Write it down, chop chop." She ordered and the boys could do nothing but obey. "Is that on the tape? We got that?" Don checked the machine yet again.

"Ah, yes." Mrs. Travers nodded shortly.

"Very good." She said, more to herself than her team. She didn't look around as Dolly came back in with a trolley loaded with even more confectionery. "Onwards."

"I'm sorry to interrupt." Dolly said quietly as she reached over and placed a tray on the centre of the table. Dick reached hungrily for a square of jelly on the end of a toothpick, but Mrs. Travers' sudden exclamation made him jump.

"Is that a joke?" Richard retracted his hand quickly as he watched Pamela turn her piercing glare to Dolly.

"Excuse me?" Dolly asked politely, not sure what she'd done wrong. But Pamela was relentless.

"Do you think you are a comedienne?" She asked. Dolly glanced at Don nervously before shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." Dick winced, feeling very grateful that he wasn't in the secretary's shoes. Mrs. Travers heaved an exasperated sigh and reached for the tray, passing it back to Dolly.

"It's- unbelievable- in the way." She told her, muttering under her breath as Dolly took the tray back.

"Dolly, I think we're all set with- With food, thank you." Don said, trying to soften the author's words to the poor woman who looked a little stunned. Charlotte's eyes were wide as she drew. She had no intention of interrupting their little meeting for fear of getting yelled at, but the way Mrs. Travers was acting was unbelievable. It was almost funny, which is why her expression was a confusing mixture of amusement and shock. Dick glanced at Charlotte and saw she was hiding a smirk behind her hand as she carried on with her art and he tried hard to suppress his own smile, but didn't quite manage it. The situation was so unbelievable, it was ridiculous. His thoughts momentarily turned to how pretty she looked today, with her light brown hair pulled away from her face and her ruby red bottom lip caught between her teeth in concentration. But then Pamela said something that definitely wiped the smile off his face. She narrowed her eyes at the younger Sherman and shook her head.

"And you, could you please pay more attention to what we're doing and not whatever it is that's over my shoulder?" She told him crossly, sounding very much like a teacher scolding a distracted pupil. Dick's attention returned to the author, his eyes wide. He shook his head desperately when he noticed Charlotte look up, confused as to why she was being mentioned. She could not know that he'd been staring, he would never get over the embarrassment.

"I wasn't, I-" He tried, but it was too late. Mrs. Travers turned in her chair to see what he had been looking at and locked eyes with Charlie, who still looked bewildered.

"Oh." Said Pamela, before turning back to Richard and giving him a stern look. "Well, if we could please leave that sort of thing at the door. We've got work to be getting on with." In all his life, Richard had never wished that the floor would open up and swallow him whole more than in that moment. His jaw dropped and his face turned bright red as he looked between Charlotte, who finally seemed to have cottoned on, and Mrs. Travers, who had turned back to her script again.

"I don't- That's-" He struggled to explain to Charlie, then to Mrs. Travers. "She's not-"

"Scene One. Exterior. _Number_ seventeen Cherry Tree Lane. London. Day." The author continued loudly, hoping to get this part over and done with as quickly as possible. Richard let his head drop into his hands, hiding his face from his colleagues and most importantly Charlotte. "Bert, a one-man band- The rumour is that this is to be your Mr. Van Dyke. Is that right?" Don nodded excitedly, glad they were finally getting somewhere. He thought it best to ignore the brief interlude between Charlotte and Dick, and move on as if it hadn't happened.

"We do hope so!" He said brightly, but Mrs. Travers grimaced.

"Well, we'll see about that. It's a horrid idea." She said, deflating his excitement in only a few words. Robert, who seemed to be the most aggravated by Mrs. Travers' attitude, chose then to step in.

"Dick is one of the greats." He said, trying to defend their choice of actor. Mrs. Travers frowned.

"Dick Van Dyke?" She reiterated and Bob's fingers gripped the table edge.

"Yes." He replied through gritted teeth, although from the look on her face, he knew there was no way he was going to win this argument.

"Robert, my dear. Olivier is one of the greats. Burton, Guinness, greats without question. I can assure you-" Mrs. Travers leaned forward and spoke unnecessarily loudly into the tape recorder, determined to get her point across. "I can assure you that Dick Van Dyke is not!" She sighed and settled back down, continuing to read Don's script. She didn't notice how she'd single-handedly manage to aggravate every single person in the room in some way or another. "Bert, a one-man band plays to a small gathering outside the gates to the park. Bert says-" She looked up and glanced at Don. "You can do Bert." She told him. Don, glad to accept the role again, nodded his head,

"Thank you." He told her, then to the boys he said, "Guys, shall we give it a whirl?" Charlotte put down her pencil at his words and sat back in her seat. She loved to hear the Shermans play their music and she was glad that they were showing Mrs. Travers what they had created. Perhaps if she heard the music they had devised, she might change her mind about Mary Poppins being a musical. The Shermans rushed to the piano, Dick settling on the stool whilst Bob stood next to the instrument, leaning his weight against it and off his wounded leg. Mrs. Travers looked quizzically at each man.

"What's happening? What're you doing?" She asked unsurely. Then Dick began to play, just as jovially and eagerly as when he had first played the song to Charlotte. Don held up his script and read aloud, excited to show Mrs. Travers what they had come up with.

"Alright, ladies and gents! Comical poems, suitable for the occasion! Extemporised and thought up before your very eyes!" He cried loudly as Mrs. Travers watched, somewhere between shock and horror. "Alright, here we go!" He gestured to Richard who then began to sing.

"Room here for everyone, gather around! The constable's responstable. Now how does that sound?" He started to sing the next line, but much to the team's surprise and dismay, Pamela shook her head.

"No, no, no, no!" She cried over the sound of the piano. "No, no, no!" She slapped the table top and Dick stopped playing, the notes ending in a fumbled mess. They all looked to the writer for an explanation which she gladly gave. "Responstable is not a word!" She cried. Charlotte barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. If made up words bothered the writer than she was in for a tough ride with this film.

"We made it up!" Dick told her proudly, gesturing to him and his brother who looked about ready to slam his head against the wall. Mrs. Travers shook her head.

"Well, un-make it up." She told them simply, then looked down and scratched a very definite line through the first song in the script. Dick sent his brother an alarmed look and quickly shuffled the yellow sheet music around so that their next song, which had a somewhat inventive title, was hidden from view.

After hours of complaining, unnecessary questions and general rudeness, Mrs. Travers finally went back to her hotel, leaving Charlotte, Don, Bob and Dick in a state of complete and utter exhaustion. They were all collapsed in chairs against the wall, their hands covering their tired faces.

"Oh, my God." Don groaned. "Oh, my God." Charlotte shook her head and rubbed her temples where a powerful headache was brewing.

"Forget everything I said about her being nervous. Nerves had nothing to do with it." She told no one in particular, but the way her aggravation strengthened her accent made Richard feel a little better and he smiled to himself.

"Oh, my _God_." Repeated Don, seemingly in a state of shock. Dick sighed and leaned his head against the back of his chair.

"Tomorrow... Tomorrow will be better, I know it." He told them, determined to feel optimistic, even if their author was a storm wrapped in a tweed suit. They slowly started to get ready to leave, grabbing coats and bags and other possessions from various corners of the room.

"I need a drink." Charlotte muttered bitterly to Dick on their way out. Dick chuckled as he pulled on his jacket.

"Me too." He agreed. Once outside, the four parted ways, but after they had said their goodbyes, Dick walked with Charlotte to the main road where she would get a cab. They were waiting under a street lamp by the side of the road when Dick had an idea. An idea that would take an immense amount of bravery on his part. He cleared his throat, earning her attention and straightened himself up. "Hey, d'you wanna..." He shuffled his feet awkwardly, finding it hard to meet her eyes. "I dunno, if you'd, uh-" Charlotte frowned slightly as she watched him struggle with his words. "D'you wanna go get a drink... With me?" He asked finally and Charlotte smiled, glad that he'd finally got his words out and happy about his invitation.

"Yes." She replied, much to Dick's surprise. After the fumbling way he'd asked her, he'd thought she'd probably laugh at him. "Yes, I'd like that." But then she frowned and pointed to his sleeve where his watch was hidden. "Oh, but what time is it?" She asked. Dick raised his wrist and just about managed to see the time under the light of the street lamp.

"It's gone eleven." He told her and Charlie sighed sadly.

"We have to be back here in a few hours. I think it's best that we go home to bed." She told him ruefully. Dick was disappointed but nodded all the same.

"Right, yeah, of course, yeah." He agreed, turning his gaze back out to the nearly empty road, trying to spot a taxi on the horizon. Charlotte watched him for a moment, also feeling disappointed. She reached out and placed her hand at the top of his arm gently.

"But Richard? Another time?" She suggested with a small curve of a smile. Dick's face immediately brightened again and he nodded eagerly.

"Yeah, sure, okay." He agreed. Charlotte chuckled at his enthusiasm just as she saw a taxi heading their way. She flagged it down easily and opened the back door. She told the driver the address of her hotel then turned back to Dick.

"Good night." She said and Richard raised a hand in a farewell.

"Good night." He replied before she slid into the back seat and closed the door. They waved at each other again as the taxi began to move and Dick stayed by the side of the road, watching her be driven away. He waited until the cab was just a yellow dot in the distance before he pumped his fist into the air in celebration. He practically skipped back to his car, whistling the tune of 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious' all the way home.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hiya, Charlie!" The artist beamed back at McLaren Stewart, the head of animation for the film, as she closed the door to his office behind her.

"Afternoon, McLaren." She replied happily. She had been across the lot to the animation department a few times to meet with McLaren. He was a tall and rounded man, with slicked back hair and wide smile. He was nice, if a little boisterous, but it was clear that he loved his job. She had come up today by his invitation, to go over the work that he and his team had been doing which was all inspired by her original artwork. Now, he frowned at her, shaking his head.

"How many times, duchess? Call me Mac." He told her, making Charlotte cluck her tongue crossly.

"I'll call you Mac when you stop giving me ridiculous nicknames." She shot back with a wry smile. McLaren raised his hands in surrender.

"Guess I'll just have to get used to McLaren then." He said sadly. Then he raised his eyebrows. "You know, only my mom calls me that." Charlotte placed her bag down on the high table top and shrugged.

"Your mum and now me." She replied, making the animator chuckle. His office was large and bright, full of old film cells and multiple drawings. Both the scrap art and the drawings in use were scattered around as if a tornado had hit the room. He worked here with his team of animators, all lovely and happy in their work. "How're things going?" She asked, taking a seat at the table in the centre of the room. McLaren shrugged, looking comically solemn.

"Well, the Ice Lady doesn't want any animation, so it looks like I'm out of a job." He said, his hands in his pockets as his foot scuffed the floor. Charlotte scoffed at his little act but he continued to lay it on thick. "We've got all this wasted material just lying around." He added miserably, looking around the room. It was a wonder to Charlotte that he knew where each piece of artwork for a different picture ended and another began, but he seemed to have a system that worked for him. She pouted, playing along with his little routine, but then leaned forward and grinned.

"Can you show me?" She asked quietly. McLaren instantly brightened.

"Sure!" He cried, excited to show her what they'd done so far. He began to dig through a pile of papers until he unearthed a large pin board where various squares of paper were attached. He held the storyboard up for her to see. "We loved your Jolly Holiday art, duchess, real beautiful, and we came up with this." He said proudly. Charlotte leaned in closer to see what they'd done and gave a delighted laugh when she saw penguins, of all things, dancing in a line as the pictures progressed.

"Oh, McLaren, how lovely!" She cried happily as she skimmed over the board, unable to hold back her elated smile. McLaren shrugged modestly.

"We're pretty proud of it." He said and carefully placed the storyboard back over by the wall. He began to dig through another pile of papers as he spoke to her. "How's things in your neck of the woods?" Charlotte sighed and looked down at her hands folded on the table top.

"Everyone's a little low spirited, I'm afraid." She told him sadly. "Mrs. Travers is somewhat..."

"Completely awful?" He finished with a quick glance over his shoulder at her. Charlotte narrowed her eyes and shot him an unimpressed look.

"Difficult." She said, shaking her head at the man. "Being rude doesn't help anyone, McLaren." She scolded. The artist waved her off and turned back to grab something from the pile.

"Yeah, yeah. Give these to Don, would ya?" He said as he handed her a pile of papers. Each one was a painstakingly drawn image of the Banks' house and the streets surrounding it. "He wants to put these up on a board to show the Ice La- I mean, the enchanting Mrs. Travers." He corrected himself after Charlotte sent him a steely glare.

"Mm hm." She hummed, unconvinced by his wide apologetic smile. She sifted through the drawings, impressed by the obvious care that had gone into them. "Well, at least these might boost moral a little." She murmured as she reached the last drawing, the grand house annotated and labelled for Mrs. Travers.

"Ah, you're the only boost those guys need." Mac said as he bustled about his office. Charlotte slipped the drawings under her arm and picked up her handbag whilst giving McLaren a weary look. He pointed to her with a cheeky smile. "They're lucky fellas, I'll tell ya that." Charlotte shook her head in disbelief and walked towards the door.

"Goodbye, McLaren." She called over her shoulder. McLaren chuckled as he watched her leave.

"And I hear from the boys that Dick's the luckiest one, if you catch my drift." He added as Charlotte opened the door.

"_Goodbye_, McLaren." She repeated without looking back. She shook her head as she walked back down the hall to the stairs. McLaren was lovely, if a little ridiculous, and it was brilliant to work with him. But his insinuation about Dick stuck in her mind. They were friends, good friends, and he was a wonderful man. And, yes, she supposed there had been a small indication of somewhat flirtatious behaviour between them. Well, it hadn't even been flirtatious, it had been... She wasn't sure what it had been. But what had Don and Bob seen that she hadn't? And why did they feel the need to gossip about it behind her back?

She thought about all this as she hurried down the stairs and through the corridors until she was at the rehearsal room. Dick and Bob were taking lunch at her table which still housed their scripts and the tape recorder, much to her annoyance. If this continued, she would have to work in her office full-time, which she didn't want at all. She loved working with the boys and she hoped they liked working with her. But now it felt like she was being pushed out. Perhaps she was putting too much thought into it. She waved to the brothers on her way to talk to Don. "That man." She scoffed, nodding her head back to the way she had come.

"What man?" Asked Bob through a mouthful of sandwich. Charlotte chuckled at his lack of manners and she stopped next to DaGradi. He was setting up a series of movable notice boards, almost like easels, and was trying to arrange them in a way that might impress Mrs. Travers, just as Mac had told her.

"McLaren Stewart, the animator." She told them. "I went upstairs to drop a few things off and he..." She paused when she caught Dick's eye, suddenly reminded of what Mac had said about him. She shook her head and looked down at the papers in her hands. "Never mind." She mumbled. Bob and Dick shared a confused glance but before they could ask Charlie what the matter was, she changed the subject. "He said you wanted these." She said to Don, holding out the drawings for him to take. DaGradi looked pleased with Mac's input and he eagerly took the artwork from her.

"Wonderful. Would ya help me put them up?" He asked as he swiftly looked through them. So Charlotte spent the next few minutes helping Don set up his display boards. They tried hard to arrange them in as interesting a way as possible, knowing it was very hard to please the author. The pictures looked wonderful up on the board, but they still looked somewhat bare. Don rubbed his chin thoughtfully and turned to Charlie. "We could do with a few of your drawings up there as well." He said. Charlotte instantly clammed up, looking from Don to the boards nervously.

"So that Mrs. Travers will see them?" She said worriedly, her shoulders hunched and her bottom lip between her teeth. She had yet to show the author her work, and after her performance yesterday, she wasn't all that keen for her to see them. She knew it was Mrs. Travers' book and she wanted the characters to look exactly as she had pictured them and that took a lot of work on Charlotte's part. She had to work with her criticisms, in fact she was glad to, she thrived under constructive criticism, but Mrs. Travers' way of doing things was very... Well, mean. And honestly, she wasn't sure if she could take it.

"Charlie, she's going to see them eventually." Robert said, somewhat unhelpfully. Charlotte shot him a glare but Don agreed with him.

"It is your job to show us what you draw." He added, and she knew they were right.

"Yes, I'll gladly show _you_." She told them. "It's just that Mrs. Travers is... A tough critic." She finished awkwardly, and the gross understatement wasn't missed by her friends.

"She'll be fine." Don assured her. Charlotte gave him a look and he shrugged his shoulders. "Well, probably not, but what does she know about art?" Charlotte sighed, knowing full well that she was never going to get out of this. She couldn't put it off forever.

"Fine." She relented at last under the pleading looks they all gave her. She walked to the table the brothers sat at and picked up her portfolio that protected her art as she went to and from work.

"Plus, you didn't get a chance to be grilled yesterday and we wouldn't want you missing out." Richard said, grinning wickedly at her. His brother nodded.

"It's enormous fun, you'll love it." He added. Charlotte must have looked as disheartened as she felt because Dick suddenly felt guilty.

"It'll be okay." He told her encouragingly and she returned his smile faintly. She handed Don a few of her drawings, the ones she thought Mrs. Travers might like to see, and took a deep breath as they began to tack them up on the board.

* * *

><p>"We do find it's helpful to have a visual." Don said, trying to get a smile out of the author. He pushed the last tack in then stepped back, allowing her to see everything clearly. "Plus, it's fun." He added with a laugh. He sent Charlotte a reassuring smile as Mrs. Travers stepped closer to the drawings, narrowing her eyes a little.<p>

"Oh, no, no." She muttered. "No, no. Goodness me, no." Charlotte felt her heart sink. She wasn't happy with McLaren's drawings that he and his team and worked so hard on.

"No?" Asked Don cautiously, glancing at the Shermans and Charlotte. Mrs. Travers shook her head furiously.

"The Banks' house doesn't look like that!" She cried. "No, no. My house is a terraced house with a pink door," She told them, raising her hands to help her picture her home. "White bricked with a crack in the gable-"

"Okay, we get it." Interrupted Bob sharply. "The house is not what you pictured." They all stared at him, his colleagues were surprised at his abruptness but Mrs. Travers looked confused, as if she couldn't believe she had been interrupted.

"The windows are lead-lined and-and the flower boxes grow pink nasturtiums to go with the pink door." She continued, making sure to look directly at Robert as she spoke so that he knew she was cross with him. She looked over at the tape recorder that was set up again to record everything that happened in the rehearsal room. "We got that?" They all nodded and the author turned back to the drawings. "Oh, dear, it's all a big mistake. It's all wrong." She moaned. Don looked shocked.

"It's _all_ wrong?" He asked and Mrs. Travers threw her hands in the air.

"Well, it's too grand!" She told them. "The Banks' are normal, everyday sort of people." She tapped the drawings. "This isn't normal, this isn't every day! They're not aristocrats!" Charlotte had to agree with Mrs. Travers there, the Banks' weren't wealthy people and the house did seem a little opulent. She glanced at her friends and was glad to see them nodding as well, they too understood what Mrs. Travers was trying to tell them. The author moved along to the next board, reaching for her cup of tea as she went. They all moved along with her, but continued to keep a safe distance. Charlotte held her breath as the author studied her art, the drawings of Jane and Michael, and Mary Poppin's umbrella, the head of which was shaped like a bird with a hooked beak. She'd been particularly proud of these drawings, but what if she hated them? What if she'd got it all wrong? But Mrs. Travers merely nodded and sipped her tea. "Okay." She murmured before moving onto the next board. Charlotte let out a long breath and Dick leaned over to speak near her ear.

"See." He murmured, glad that Mrs. Travers had been as pleasant as they had promised she would be. Charlotte sent him a weak smile, she still hadn't quite recovered from her nervousness, but then Mrs. Travers spoke and she felt anxious all over again.

"Oh, do I even have to say it?" She tutted crossly.

"Then again." Charlotte muttered to Dick who bit his lip worriedly. He knew Charlotte was a big girl and could take any criticism the author threw at her, but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt to see her hard work dashed in an instant.

"Um, I'm afraid so." Don laughed nervously. Mrs. Travers narrowed her eyes at the four of them.

"Why in the world have you made Mrs. Banks a silly suffragette?" She asked tiredly.

"I wonder if Emmeline. P would agree with that adjective." Bob shot back, and Charlotte knew from the weariness of his tone that he couldn't take much more of the author's attitude.

"Quite possibly, looking back." She scoffed and looked back at the drawing. Charlie cleared her throat and realised that this would be the first time she had spoken to the author directly.

"That was my idea, Mrs. Travers." She said. The author looked around again and frowned at her.

"It's Charlotte, isn't it?" She checked. Charlie nodded.

"Yes. You see, I couldn't help but wonder why Mrs. Banks was never with the children in your books." Don nodded, eager to back up Charlie's words.

"It does seem strange that Mrs. Banks allows her kids to spend all of their time with the nanny when she doesn't have job to speak of." He added helpfully. Mrs. Travers wrinkled her nose at the pair of them.

"Are you calling Mrs. Banks neglectful?" She asked hotly.

"Yep." Robert said instantly, but Don quickly stepped in.

"No! Of course not!" He said, sending a quick glare in the musician's direction.

"Not at all, Mrs. Travers." Continued Charlotte. "It's just that, well..." She trailed off and looked to Don for help.

"We just thought that giving her a job would go some way to explaining-" He tried, but Mrs. Travers had heard enough.

"Being a mother is a job." She told them crossly. "It's a very difficult job and one that not everyone is up to, one that not everyone should have taken on in the first place!" She said as she walked towards Charlotte's table and spoke directly into the microphone connected to the tape recorder. "And I won't have her called Cynthia! Absolutely not. It feels unlucky." She pouted her lips thoughtfully as she sat down on the edge of the table. "It needs to be something warm, something a bit, I don't know... Sexy." She didn't notice the colleagues' collective wince, it was uncomfortable to hear a woman as bad-tempered as Mrs. Travers using such language. "How about Mavis?" She suggested.

"Uh." Don drew out his uncertain syllable until he thought up a better idea. "Sybil?"

"Great." Muttered Bob from his chair.

"Prudence?" Added Mrs. Travers. Then Dick,

"Gwendolyn?"

"Perfect." Came Robert's bored utterance.

"Winifred!"

"Winifred." Richard repeated, looking to Don for confirmation. "Winifred?" The writer nodded.

"I could go with Winifred." He agreed. Mrs. Travers clasped her hands together, feeling quite pleased with herself.

"That's because it's very good." She said smugly, getting up from the table again to look at the last few pictures. With a confirmation nod from Don, Charlie stepped forward and rubbed out the character name she had written at the top of the drawing, replacing it with her new one.

"Winifred." She murmured to herself as she wrote the word. She liked it, it suited her well. She quickly stepped back as Mrs. Travers looked at the board again. The author shook her head briskly and turned back to them looking horror-stricken.

"This isn't Mr. Banks. This isn't him." She said, seemingly quite outraged by Charlie's drawing. Don leaned forward, misinterpreting Mrs. Travers' words.

"Uh, yes, that's Mr. Banks." He told her, but Mrs. Travers still looked livid.

"But he has a set of moustaches!" She cried angrily. Don looked to Charlie for help before shrugging his shoulders.

"In the books he has-"

"I told the illustrator I didn't like the facial hair but she chose to ignore me." Mrs. Travers said curtly. "Now, this time around, this is my film and I shall have my way." Charlotte understood where she was coming from, but this drawing was different to the others. She had been under strict instructions when drawing Mr. Banks.

"Under different circumstances, I would agree with you, however..." She tried to explain, but luckily Dolly stepped in when she couldn't think of the right words.

"Mrs. Travers, this is a specific request from Walt." She told her in that soft, calming tone of hers. Mrs. Travers frowned and looked back to Charlotte and Don.

"Why?" She demanded. Charlie faltered, she hadn't expected this kind of reaction at all.

"Um, well, er..." She mumbled. Don looked down at the floor awkwardly.

"Well, I think he identifies-"

"He didn't, he doesn't." She said abruptly. "Mr. Banks is clean shaven!"

"Does it matter?" An angry voice called across the room. Mrs. Travers' mouth shut with a snap and she glared at Bob, the one who had addressed her so impolitely. Charlotte closed her eyes, praying that the brother wouldn't say anything too antagonising.

"Bob." His brother said warningly, trying to be the peace keeper. But Robert couldn't put up with Mrs. Travers' harsh and unreasonable words any longer.

"Does. It. Matter." He slowly repeated, glaring at the writer challengingly.

"Bob." Don tried, but it was too late. Mrs. Travers seemed to get over the shock of being so rudely addressed and pointed to the door.

"You can wait outside!" She ordered, scolding Robert like a schoolboy. Bob seemed surprised that she would resort to that sort of thing and looked to the others for support but they stayed silent for fear of meeting the same fate. "I shan't say it again, Robert." She warned him and Charlie thought her icy gaze might bore a hole through the musician. Bob looked furious but got up all the same, angrily grabbing his crutch and limping out the room as fast as he could. He swung the door open hard and began to make his way down the corridor. Charlotte wasn't sure where he was headed, she doubted Bob even knew in his angry state. Mrs. Travers frowned as she watched him leave then moved back to the table. "What is wrong with his leg?" She asked.

"He got shot." Dick told her pointedly, but Mrs. Travers didn't seen at all moved by Bob's history. In fact, she seemed less impressed by the man than she already was.

"Hardly surprising." She muttered, and Charlotte saw Dick's hands ball into fists at his sides. "Can I expect any more drama from anyone else?" The author asked, and Dick shook his head, looking from Don on his right to Charlie then Dolly on his left. They stayed silent, but the tension in the room made Charlotte uneasy. And as much as she was enjoying watching Dick's jaw clench angrily out of the corner of her eye, she knew she should try and calm them all down.

"Mrs. Travers," She said, after she finally managed to tear her gaze away from Richard's lovely jawline and focus back on the matter at hand. "Why don't you come with me to my office and I'll show you some more ideas?" She suggested, thinking that it would be best to remove the catalyst from the room as quickly as possible before anything else could go wrong. Mrs. Travers didn't seem all that impressed by her proposal but nodded all the same.

"Fine." She agreed quietly, as if she had only given in because she had nothing better to do. She led Mrs. Travers to the door and let her exit first so that she could glance back at her colleagues and give them an encouraging smile that only Dick returned properly. She led Mrs. Travers through the corridors to her office, just as Don had done with her a few days ago when she had first arrived.

"It's just this way." She told her as they neared the office. They stopped at the redwood door and as Charlotte bent to slot her key into the lock, Mrs. Travers surprised her by asking a question.

"How did you come to be here?" She asked, and it surprised Charlotte that she would be interested in her personal life.

"Working for Walt?" She asked, only just realising how stupid that sounded after she'd said it. Mrs. Travers tilted her head disappointedly.

"What else would I mean?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Charlotte finally unlocked the door and held it open for the writer as she spoke.

"I used to work for a publishing company back in London. I was one of the illustrators." She explained. Mrs. Travers was the first person to hear this story, or at least, the first person to ask, which was what surprised her the most. "Then, one day, I heard two gentlemen talking about a position that had just opened up in California. Disney wanted fresh faces and fresh ideas so word had spread far and wide." She pulled out a chair from under her desk and patted it invitingly. "Here, please sit down." She offered and Mrs. Travers did just that.

"Thank you." She said pleasantly, and it occurred to Charlie that she seemed like a completely different person than the one that had just grilled them in the rehearsal room.

"I applied and they accepted." Charlotte continued her story as she bustled about her office, which was a damn sight tidier than McLaren's. She spotted the copy of Mary Poppins that her mother had sent her here with and quickly pushed it under a pile of papers. She didn't think now was an appropriate time to ask for Mrs. Travers' autograph. Then she found what she'd been looking for. "I flew here a few days later. Come to think of it, I've only been here a few more days than you have."

"And how're you finding it?" Asked Mrs. Travers as she looked about Charlie's office interestedly. It certainly was a lovely space, with bright colours and neat piles of paper. Everything was very organised and in its place. Pamela thought that if she had an office, she'd like it to look like this.

"Different." Charlotte replied slowly. Mrs. Travers raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Good different?" She asked. Charlie twisted her mouth.

"Not all of it." She said honestly, thinking back to the busy roads and bad smells and a large majority of the citizens who were quite rude. "But it's not without its merits." She added, feeling a little guilty about putting the city down like that since she currently lived and worked there. In fact, her work was one of the only things she loved about her stay here, that and the people she worked with. Mrs. Travers looked down at the desktop and studied the little doodles of the children's outfits that currently sat there from where Charlotte had been working on them earlier

"I feel the same way." She murmured, almost to herself. Then she seemed to snap back to reality and looked expectantly at Charlotte. "Now, what did you want to show me?" Charlotte quickly opened her other portfolio which stored the drawings she hadn't shown to the guys yet.

"Er, here!" She cried happily as she found the specific one she was looking for. She slipped it out carefully and handed it to the author. "I wanted to show you Bert." It was a complete, finished drawing of what Bert's character would look like. Every detail was there, right down to the chimney brush in his hand and the soot on his face. She bit her lip as she watched Mrs. Travers study the drawing, suddenly feeling quite awkward just standing there.

"Have you heard who they want to play him? Dick Van Dyke." Mrs. Travers scoffed eventually. She seemed pleased with her work which lifted an enormous weight off Charlie's shoulders.

"An interesting choice, I must say." She agreed. "But his comic timing is quite good." The author sent her a sharp look and Charlie looked down at her art again. "And, um... Here's Mary Poppins." She said, recalling what Mrs. Travers had said about always using the nanny's full name. She slid the drawing out carefully but paused just before passing it to Pamela. She laughed nervously and looked down at her feet. "I'm rather hesitant to show her to you." She admitted. Mrs. Travers frowned again.

"Why?" She asked. Charlotte couldn't believe that her tentativeness would come as surprise to the author after her display in the rehearsal room, but she couldn't think about that now.

"Because she's your family." She said earnestly and she was surprised by the way Mrs. Travers expression relaxed into understanding. "And I only know her from the pages of a book. Which I am a very big fan of, by the way. We all are." Mrs. Travers looked around at the hundreds of drawings that surrounded her, all based off her work and then thought back to how eager this little team had been to meet her yesterday afternoon.

"Evidently." She said quietly. Charlotte watched her for a moment before handing her the drawing.

"Here." She murmured. Mrs. Travers took the paper from her gingerly, and Charlotte was pleased that she understood how much care went into her work. The drawing was of Mary in the first costume the audience would see her in. Her little flowery hat was perfectly straight and her umbrella was tucked under her arm. Mrs. Travers stared at the drawing intently, as if she were frightened that if she blinked, Mary would disappear. "Can I ask what you think?" Charlotte asked curiously, but not wanting to push the writer.

"It's very odd... To see someone you know so well only through words suddenly being presented to you in pictures." Mrs. Travers told her softly. "It's like they've almost come alive." She studied the drawing for another moment in silence before she passed it back to her. "Very good." She told her. Charlotte was so surprised, she didn't quite catch what she'd said.

"I'm sorry?" Mrs. Travers rolled her eyes.

"I said it is very good. You must learn to listen, Charlotte." She scolded as she got up from her chair. Charlotte shook her head.

"Right, sorry." She mumbled as she placed the portfolio back in its rightful place. "But you like it?"

"Yes. Well done." Praised Mrs. Travers primly. She turned to leave, her hand resting on the door handle, but she looked back to her at the last second. "Don't let them change her." She told her quietly. "Not one bit. She's... Precious to me." Charlie nodded determinedly.

"I completely understand." She promised the writer, who cleared her throat primly.

"Good." She said and opened the door. "Thank you for showing me." She added. Charlotte shrugged and followed her out into the corridor.

"Nonsense, it's my job, Mrs. Travers." She said, smiling slightly at the older lady. She paused, not sure whether or not to say what she was about to say. "If you ever need anything or if you ever want to talk, this is where you'll find me if not in the rehearsal room." She said finally, after much internal deliberation. Mrs. Travers frowned at her.

"Why should I want to talk with you?" She asked, but she didn't mean it in a rude way, she was simply curious as to what the girl could offer her.

"I don't know." Charlotte said, shrugging her shoulders slightly. "We're from the same place, this is all new to the both of us. We're sort of in the same boat." Mrs. Travers nodded at her words.

"Hm. I suppose we are, in a way." She agreed quietly. Then she asked, "Do you have the time?" Charlotte ducked her head back into her office where she knew there was a clock.

"It's quarter to six." She told her. Pamela held out her hand to the artist.

"I think I better be off now." She said as Charlotte took her offered hand. She briskly shook it then nodded once. "Good evening, Charlotte." She said, then turned on her heel and walked back the way they had come.

"Good evening, Mrs. Travers." Replied Charlotte, not sure whether the author had heard her or not. She went back into her office and slumped down into her chair with a long, exhausted sigh. Had she just made sort of friends with their surly author? How on Earth had she managed that? Charlotte let out a disbelieving chuckle as she swivelled in her chair, using her foot to sway the chair from side to side by pushing off her desk closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest, taking in a calming breath. She had work to be getting on with, but right now, all she felt like doing was taking a break and mulling over what had transpired between her and Mrs. Travers. She wouldn't tell the boys, in fact, she felt like she shouldn't. They would just have to find their own ways to connect with the author, whether they liked it or not.

Charlotte smiled and turned her head to look out at the evening sky just beginning to peep through the crowd of clouds. All she could think about was how contented she felt right now, and how lucky she was to work on this picture. She sighed again and got up out of her chair, locking her office door behind headed back towards the music room with a spring in her step, knowing that she and her new friends had a lot of work to do, but they would have fun doing it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Just wanted to say a quick thank you to whoever it is that hasn't signed in but keeps giving me lovely little comments and encouragements. Thank you, Guest, I love you.**

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><p>Dick hummed thoughtfully as he leaned over the piano keys. He was filling in a blank sheet of music, scribbling crooked, cursive notations across the staves with unparalleled care. He and his brother had just finished one of their most bold and audacious pieces of music yet. They knew Mrs. Travers wouldn't like it, but Walt certainly would. It was fun, lively and jovial, everything that Mrs. Travers wasn't. But they were determined to write the music that they wanted to write, whether Pamela liked it or not. Bob played the last chord again and Dick carefully wrote it down.<p>

"There. Finished." He murmured, colouring in the last ovate note. His brother reread the last page of music over his shoulder with a smile and clapped Dick on the back.

"This is gonna be a good one, I can feel it." Bob said, seeming much chipper and more like his usual self than when Mrs. Travers was there. They both looked up as the door swung open, afraid it might be the author herself, but fortunately it was Charlie who walked in. She smiled at Don as she went past him. He was sat in an armchair by the wall, scribbling on his script as he happily listened to the brothers play. Charlotte approached the piano and grinned at them both.

"Good afternoon." She greeted cheerfully, placing her forearms on the piano and resting her chin on top. She'd been in her office all morning and hadn't had a chance to come in to say hello yet. It wasn't until she was apart from them that she realised just how much she missed her friends. She hoped they felt the same way. Although, from the way Dick was smiling at her, it was quite clear the feeling was mutual.

"Afternoon!" The both replied in unison. Robert stood up to lean against the side of the piano, but Dick stayed seated, happily looking up at Charlotte.

"You're going to like this one." He told her, somewhat conspiratorially. Charlotte looked puzzled as she glanced between the two brothers.

"This what?" She asked. Dick chuckled and did a quick scale on the piano, the beautiful sound filling the room. If asked, Dick would swear he did it solely because he knew that Charlotte liked to hear them play. But perhaps he could admit it to himself that he did it just to show off a little.

"This song." He added, his smile widening. Charlotte shook her head slightly and changed position so that her elbows rested on the top of the piano.

"I like all your songs." She told him kindly as she rested her chin on the heel of her palm. She gave him a teasing smile that made Richard's shirt collar feel a little tight, but he tried not to notice it.

"Well, you'll love this one." He promised. Charlotte chuckled and raised her eyebrows.

"Is it good?" She smirked.

"Very." Replied Bob, who was beginning to feel a little left out, although he'd never admit it. "If I do say so myself." This made Charlotte laugh again, but then she had a thought.

"Will Mrs. Travers like it?" She asked with obvious concern. Robert snorted and shook his head.

"Almost certainly not." He said. His friend and his brother chuckled, although Charlotte couldn't help but feel a little sad at his words. They worked so hard and it went completely unappreciated by the author. Bob tapped the top of the piano before he walked away to talk to Don, leaving Dick alone with Charlotte. Richard liked Charlie, he really did, and he thought perhaps it was quite obvious. Perhaps a little too obvious sometimes. But being left alone with her made him nervous. What if he said something stupid? He always managed to find himself unprecedentedly tongue tied whenever they spoke. She was so clever and witty, and it really didn't help that he thought she was incredibly beautiful. She smiled easily down at him and that helped him relax a little, but then she leaned enticingly further over the piano.

"Fantastic, let's hear it then." She said excitedly. It took him a moment to realise what she was talking about, but once he remembered, he shook his head.

"No, sorry, you can't." He told her firmly. Charlotte immediately straightened up, her expression falling. Dick almost laughed at the outraged expression on her lovely face, but thought better of it.

"But you just said I'll love it." She said in bewilderment, and this time, Richard did laugh.

"You have to wait until Mrs. Travers gets here, then you can hear it." He told her. He knew that she'd love the song, but he wanted it to be a surprise. And perhaps if Mrs. Travers heard someone praise their music, she might go a little easier on them. Charlotte's agape mouth closed with a snap and she pouted childishly.

"Fine." She huffed. "Then I won't show you my drawing." To her delight, her words did exactly what she'd planned they would and Dick looked immediately interested.

"What drawing?" He asked quickly. Charlotte smirked, and picked up the portfolio that rested by her feet. She patted it fondly before neatly tucking it under her arm.

"My special drawing." She told him mysteriously with a quirked eyebrow. Richard's curiosity was well and truly piqued.

"What of?" He asked, looking round the side of the piano to try and get a look. Charlotte moved her portfolio into her hands and hid it behind her back.

"You." She said, smiling demurely. "And your brother and Don." Much to her amusement, Dick gasped and held out his hand.

"Let me see!" He cried as he stood from his seat. Charlotte raised her chin challengingly.

"Let me hear your song." She replied, the corner of her red lips pulled back in a tempting smirk. Dick's gaze momentarily flicked down, his attention caught by that ridiculously enticing smile. Then he regained control and crossed his arms defiantly.

"No." He said firmly, although Charlie knew that she had managed to crack his resolve.

"Then you don't get to see." She said simply. Dick twisted his mouth and leaned forward over the piano, hoping to intimidate her in the way she had done to him. But Charlie was made of sterner stuff and didn't move back like he thought she would. Now they were standing very close, closer than they'd ever been before. Dick felt heat rise in his face when he realised that if it weren't for the piano in the way, they'd look quite intimate. He let out a humph and stole another quick glance down at her lips before meeting her gaze again.

"You drive a hard bargain Miss. Charlotte." He murmured, returning her smirk. Charlotte fought the urge to smile, trying to keep up the game they were playing, determined not to crack first. But that smile. Charlie studied his dark brown eyes, as if trying to figure something out, before finally giving in and smiling properly at him, a big, warm smile that made his chest tighten. Across the room, Don nudged Bob's arm and then nodded to the pair by the piano. Bob rolled his eyes in return and shook his head in mock despair. The door to the rehearsal room suddenly burst open and Dolly flew in, travelling much faster than her high heels should allow.

"She's here!" She cried, before turning around and running back the way she'd come, obviously not wanting to stick around for long. Charlotte chuckled at the petite woman's actions before turning back to Dick. She smiled at him softly and reaching up, gently squeezing his shoulder encouragingly before she turned away to stand by her desk. As Dick recovered from whatever it was that had just happened between them, Charlotte called across the room to his brother.

"I wouldn't have thought you were allowed back in here after yesterday." She teased as Bob walked back over to the piano.

"If worst comes to worst, I'll beat her with my cane." He told her, making Charlotte and Don laugh raucously. But then a sharp cough from behind them stopped all merriment. Charlotte turned to see Mrs. Travers standing in the doorway, just as Dolly had said, looking incredibly unimpressed. Charlotte glanced at Don who was shuffling awkwardly before smoothing down the front of her dress and smiling at the author.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Travers." She said politely, knowing how she liked to keep things formal.

"Good afternoon." Mrs. Travers replied with a curt nod as she made her way over to the table where she always sat. Dick stood up from the piano seat and nervously addressed the author.

"If it's alright with you Mrs. Travers, we'd like to play you another song." He said, and Charlotte thought he looked rather sweet, with his hands folded and his eyebrows drawn together imploringly. Mrs. Travers gave a dramatic sigh and opened her little notebook, flicking through the pages in a bored manner.

"I don't know what you hope to achieve with it, but go on." She told him brusquely without looking up from her book. Charlotte's heart sank a little at the disappointed look on Richard's face, but she had quickly learned it was best to hold your tongue around the author. Don pursed his lips and sighed a little at Mrs. Travers' impatient tone.

"That's the spirit." He murmured as Dick retreated back to safe ground. He sat down at the piano again, fingers poised to play as his colleagues gathered around him, apart from Charlie, who chose a seat close to Mrs. Travers at the table. Dick cleared his throat, ready to begin, and sent Charlotte one more nervous glance. Pamela watched out of the corner of her eye as the young artist sent Richard a warm smile and a subtle thumbs up. She looked back at the musician and saw him square his shoulders, his courage obviously bolstered by Charlotte's encouragements. The three men took a deep breath, preparing to sing as Dick played the first charming notes.

"It's... Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!" They sang boisterously and Charlotte let out a joyous cry of surprise when she heard the lengthy word. "Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious, if you say it loud enough you'll always sound precocious! Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!" That word again made Charlotte laugh. Dick had been right, she already loved the song. Mrs. Travers, however, looked less than impressed. But this time, she let them continue their song instead of interrupting straight away.

"Because I was afraid to speak when I was just a lad, my father gave me nose a tweak and told me I was bad." Sang Bob, grinning at the quick and jaunty tune. Charlotte had never seen him so caught up with happiness before. "But then one day I learned a word that saved my achin' nose!" Then Richard and Don joined in again, obviously acting out the different parts.

"The biggest word you ever heard and this is how it goes: Oh! Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious, if you say it loud enough you'll always sound precocious! Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay! Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay!" Charlotte couldn't hold back her grin and she didn't want to. These boys and their wonderful music. They were incredible, the song was incredible.

"He travelled all around the world and everywhere he went, he'd use his word and all would say: 'There goes a clever gent.'" Sang Dick, smiling brightly as he acted out the part.

"When Dukes and Maharajas pass the time of day with me, I say me special word and then they ask me out to tea!"

"Oh! Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious, if you say it loud enough you'll always sound precocious. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay! Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay!" Dick played a little quieter and leaned forward, speaking directly to Charlotte.

"You can say it backwards which is: 'dociousaliexpilisticfragicalirupes', but that's going a bit too far, don't you think?" He said, giving her that wonderful, radiant smile of his. Charlie gasped at the tricky lyrics and applauded Dick's articulacy

"Indubitably." Answered Bob with a roll of his eyes, making Charlotte laugh again. She didn't dare look at Mrs. Travers for the rest of the performance, she knew what she would see. The woman was most likely livid. This kind of song was the polar opposite of what she had asked for. She could only imagine the look of unadulterated irritation on the author's face. The song went on for a little longer and continued to be funny and ridiculous until the very end. Charlotte almost got out of her seat to dance along to the jolly tune but thankfully stopped herself before she did anything too embarrassing. The brothers and Don finished the song enthusiastically in a whirl of piano music.

"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!" They cried one last time, before Dick lifted his fingers from the keys and looked expectantly at the two woman who served as their audience. He was glad to see Charlotte clapping excitedly, her wide smile still in place. He knew she'd like it, however, Mrs. Travers had the final say on everything so she was the one to impress. But judging by the look on her face, they hadn't succeeded.

"What on Earth are you talking about?" She cried, shaking her head in bewilderment. "Supercali- Supercali- Or whatever the infernal thing is!" Bob looked down at his brother and he gave a small shrug.

"It's something to say when you don't know what to say." He tried to explain to the author, but she still didn't look pleased.

"Well, I always know what to say." She replied sharply. She suddenly jerked her head towards the door and pointed a threatening finger at Dolly who was just entering the room. "If you so much as step one foot in here with that tray I shall scream!" She cried, making the young woman jump. Immediately, Dolly began to push her trolley back down the corridor. "One cannot live on cake alone!" Mrs. Travers called after her. Charlotte watched her leave sadly, partly because she felt sorry for the secretary, but also because she was quite peckish and that cake had looked good. Don sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair.

"Let's just try it again, shall we?" He suggested, trying to settle the nerves of everyone in the room. But Mrs. Travers shook her head.

"No, I can't bear listening to your pointless drivel any more." She said bitterly. Dick's jaw clenched with anger but he didn't dare say anything. Mrs. Travers was really starting to get to him, as much as he tried to put up with it. He stole a glance at Charlie who was sat a chair down from the author. She was looking down at the table in front of her, her hands clenched into fists. Apparently Mrs. Travers' bluntness was getting to her too. "Let's move onto something else." Decided the author in a bored voice. Don shrugged, just glad to be changing the subject before someone started throwing things.

"Fine. What would you like to do?" He asked, trying to be polite but it came out sounding a little forced. Mrs. Travers sighed and flicked through her script, her thin lips pouted indecisively. They waited patiently for her to speak, but Mrs. Travers had managed to aggravate everyone in the room yet again. The brothers were furious that all the hard work they had put in to writing their song had been dashed in a few seconds, whilst Charlie and Don were just angry that the author didn't have a polite bone in her body.

"I'd like to go over that scene again, the, what did you call it, the 'Jolly Holiday' part." Mrs. Travers finally decided, her mouth drawn into a thin, disapproving line. Don sighed and nodded.

"As you wish." He said bitterly and turned away from the table. He went to speak to the boys, trying to come up with something they could show her that she'd actually like. Charlotte sat and drew some more, never looking at Mrs. Travers once. To be perfectly honest, she was furious with the woman. She had seen first-hand how hard these men worked, and all of it for her, but still Pamela Travers wouldn't give them the slightest bit of leeway. It is understandable that an author would be pernickety about how their work was adapted and transformed into a film, but still, there was a limit to how rude you could be.

After an eventful half hour of brief arguments, sharp words and the sound of patiences beginning to wane, the music room's door swung open and in stormed Walt. Charlotte jumped from her seat as if he were the King, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Pamela!" He boomed as he crossed the room to stand in front of their table. Mrs. Travers wasn't half as intimidated as Charlie was, and she merely smiled calmly up at their boss.

"Mr. Disney." She greeted pleasantly.

"What's this I hear about you not wanting any red in the film?" Walt demanded, although Charlotte could tell he was desperately trying to reel back his anger. He didn't want to lose his temper, especially not in front of his employees, but Mrs. Travers' request was simply too outrageous. Charlotte wrinkled her nose and turned to look at Dick, Bob and Don who were all standing wide-eyed by the piano.

"No red?" She mouthed to them and they all shrugged in return, just as lost as she was. Charlie caught Walt's eye and saw his scolding look. She ducked her head and scurried over to the piano to stand with her friends, just happy to get out of the line of fire.

"I've simply gone off the colour." Mrs. Travers shrugged, waving off his question as if it were trivial.

"We can't make the film without the colour red! The film is set in London, for pete's sake!" Walt cried. The four figures by the piano watched the conversation like a tennis match, their heads turning simultaneously from one contender to the other.

"And?" Mrs. Travers asked. Walt faltered, he hadn't thought that this would actually need explaining.

"Well, there's buses and mail boxes and guard's uniforms and things." He threw his hands in the air and shook his head. "Heck, the English flag!" Mrs. Travers pursed her lips, her whole body clearly expressing her indifference.

"I understand your predicament, Mr. Disney, I do. I just- I don't know what it is. I'm just suddenly very anti-red." She said, and it was very obvious to everyone in the room that she was making her arguments up as she went along. Dick glanced down at his red waistcoat and back up at Mrs. Travers with a concerned, forlorn look in his eyes. Charlotte noticed and leaned over to pat his shoulder comfortingly. "I shan't be wearing it ever again." Walt sighed and leaned forward over the table.

"Is this a test, Pamela?" He murmured, and Charlie thought perhaps he was attempting to be intimidating. She didn't think that Mr. Disney had an intimidating bone in his body, but bless him for trying. "Are you requiring proof of how badly I wanna make you happy so that we can create this beautiful thing together?" If it was any consolation, Mrs. Travers did look quite embarrassed at having been caught out. She looked like she was being told off, and it was strange to see her in this new role. But then she straightened her back and took hold of the reins again.

"I took you at your word, Mr. Disney, and it seems my _first_ stipulation has been denied." She stated firmly and concisely. "There will be many more, so, perhaps we should just call it quits and I should hand you back these." As she spoke, she reached for her handbag and pulled out a few folded pieces of paper. Walt eyed them angrily, and it seemed he wasn't sure whether or not to call her bluff. The writer, the artist and the musicians all watched silently, waiting for their magical boss to save the day and let them get on with their work. But Walt sighed and straightened up, all the fight leaving him.

"Alright. No red in the picture." He gave in, and Charlotte realised that this was the first time she had seen him without his broad smile.

"Walt!" Bob cried, he couldn't believe that Disney would give in so easily. They tried to call after him, but Charlotte watched sadly as her hero walked back out the door he had burst in through just a few moment ago. "He doesn't have the rights." Bob said as he realised what the powerful papers in Mrs. Travers' grasp were. She smiled triumphantly and waved them for effect.

"Quite." She agreed. Charlotte turned back to the author, her mouth hanging open. She couldn't believe it. She could not believe it. How could she be so impossible? She didn't know whether she was upset or shocked or just plain furious. All she knew was that Mrs. Travers' smirk was making her blood boil. How could she treat them like this? How dare she? She tried to push down all those thoughts and feelings, but Mrs. Travers' biting comments had been gnawing away at her since the day she'd arrived and now they were spilling over. Before she even knew what she was doing, she gave an outraged cry and stormed out of the door. They all watched her leave, surprised at her outburst, but only Dick followed her. He grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair and ran to the door.

"Charlie!" He tried to call her back. He swung open the rehearsal door and began to run down the corridor after her. "Charlie!" Mrs. Travers sniffed and turned back to those who were left.

"You are a melodramatic bunch, aren't you?" She muttered, true to her usual unsympathetic self.

* * *

><p>"Charlie?" Dick cried as he ran down the corridors, trying to catch a glimpse of her as he rounded each corner. He had no idea where he was going, and he was pretty certain Charlotte didn't either. But still he ran, trying desperately to find her. "Charlotte!" He called again, hoping that using her full name might catch her attention. Fortunately, he only had to hurry down a few more hallways before he found her. Charlotte stood in the middle of the empty corridor, her face all screwed up with anger.<p>

"She's just so- Ugh!" She cried, shaking her head with disgust. She pointed in the general direction of the author in question. "She's so awful! She's so unbearably unreasonable, it makes me so- Oh!" She span around and put her hands on her hips, her teeth gritted furiously. Dick was surprised by the ferocity that fuelled her words, he had never seen her like this. She was usually so calm and placid, but something had tipped her over the edge. She turned back to Richard and gestured towards where she imagined Mrs. Travers might be sitting. "How dare she, the old bag!" Then she paused and shook her head, as if she was snapping herself out of a dream. "No, that's not nice, she doesn't deserve that." She scolded herself, the politeness that had been drilled into her for years trying to regain control. But again she frowned, looking even more conflicted than before. "Or does she?" She asked no one in particular. "I don't- Oh, bloody hell!" She yelled, throwing her hands up into the air before leaning against the wall.

Dick watched as all the fight left her and she slid to the floor looking lost. She sighed and rested her head in her hands, rubbing her tired eyes. What had come over her? She had never acted like this before. Perhaps she was overtired, or perhaps she was becoming too invested in her work. Either way, she felt exhausted, like a deflated balloon. Dick watched her sadly, not quite knowing what to do. He understood Charlotte's anger, but he didn't want a cranky old lady to change her. He liked how polite and ordered she was, he didn't want to see that taken from her as she grew more and more tired of the author's sharp comments. Without a word, he stepped forward and repeated her actions, sliding down the wall until he sat beside her. They sat in silence for a while, just staring at the opposite wall and contemplating what had happened. Finally, Dick turned his head slightly to her and asked with a slight smile,

"Is that the rudest you've ever been about a person?" Charlotte looked back at him for a moment before she exhaled sharply through her nose, which soon turned to a proper laugh as Dick joined her. She sighed and leaned her head back against the wall, her eyebrows drawing together with concern.

"It was quite harsh, wasn't it?" She murmured worriedly. Dick snorted.

"No!" He replied. "God, no. You could say a lot worse about her." Charlie had to agree with him there, but she didn't want to. It wasn't nice to be rude about people, especially someone she didn't know all that well. But Mrs. Travers had finally made her snap, something she ought to be congratulated for.

"She just... Why doesn't she understand how hard you work?" She muttered as she sadly shook her head. "And that you're doing everything you can to accommodate her. This film, it's going to be incredible, so why does she..?" She trailed off and heaved a shrug, titling her head to look at Richard. "I hate the way she talks to you." She murmured, and Dick found it hard to look away from her bright, hazel eyes. He shook his head slightly, gently nudging her arm in a feeble attempt at a companionable gesture.

"Don't worry about it." He told her quietly before finally looking back at the opposite wall. "She seems to quite like you, in her own weird way." Charlotte chuckled scornfully and returned his nudge. She sighed again, then leaned over slightly so that she could rest her head on Dick's shoulder. He tensed up a little in surprise, but very quickly relaxed and let himself enjoy the feeling of Charlotte leaning on him. He found comfort in her gesture and the warmth of her skin, that somehow managed to seep through his clothes to his own body. They stayed that way for a little while, until Charlotte began to get uncomfortable on the cold, hard floor. She lifted her head from Dick's shoulder and looked around the corridor.

"Where are we?" She asked him, and found that he'd closed his eyes whilst they sat there. He blinked a few times and studied the hallway with a slight frown.

"I don't know." He said slowly. He looked down at Charlotte and they both began to giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Oh, I can't believe I stormed out of the room, how childish." Charlotte moaned once their laughs had subsided a little. She had wanted to make an impression on Mrs. Travers and her colleagues, and she certainly had, just not exactly the kind she would have liked. Dick shrugged.

"Ah, we all feel like doing it every now and then." He reassured her. She still looked despondent so he jumped to his feet and held out hands for her to take. "C'mon." Charlotte smiled gratefully as she took his offered hands in her own and let him pull her to her feet. She dusted herself off and straightened out her dress. "What do you want to do?" Dick asked and Charlotte crossed her arms.

"I don't want to go back in there." She told him quickly. She was no longer angry, but she didn't feel brave enough to face her roomful of colleagues again today. Dick shrugged.

"Me neither." He agreed simply. Charlotte watched him expectantly, waiting for him to suggest a plan of action. When he didn't speak, she twisted her mouth and raised her shoulders.

"What should we do?" Dick pouted thoughtfully, looking around the empty corridor for inspiration. Charlotte could practically see the light bulb that lit up over his head as he sent her his trademark crooked smile.

"Wanna skip class?" He asked in a hushed voice, as if it were a secret. Charlotte's eyes widened and she shook her head.

"Richard, we can't." She whispered harshly. She had never, in all her life, broken a rule and she wasn't about to start now. But Dick didn't seem to think that ditching their work was as big a crime as she did.

"Why not? We're pretty much done for the day anyway." He continued, airily waving a dismissive hand. Charlotte put her hands on her hips and gave him her sternest look.

"We couldn't possibly leave _her_ with Don and your brother." She countered. Not only would they be breaking the rules, but their colleagues would also be stranded with the Ice Lady, as so many had christened her.

"Eh, they'll be fine." Dick shrugged, not feeling half as guilty about it as Charlie. Richard knew that what they were doing was wrong, but he couldn't help but get excited about the idea now. It would be easy to sneak out, and yes, they were pretty much finished for the day. Charlotte was in no mood to go back and neither was he, so why should they? It upset him that Mrs. Travers had caused her such grief and he wanted to make her happy. He realised that he could be a penniless, jobless man if it meant that he got to see her smile. The thought surprised him. Charlotte was a friend, a colleague, who he'd only known for a few days. Surely it was impossible to grow attached to someone so quickly. He watched her bite her lip, and really wished he could look away because his heart was beating a mile a minute. Charlie twisted the top half of her body back and forth, a conflicted look on her face.

"I don't know..." She murmured as she swung her arms childishly, although from her slight hint of a smile, he knew he nearly had her convinced. Richard chuckled and took a step closer to her.

"C'mon, be bad for once in your life." He told her as he held out his hand for her to take. Charlotte stared at his offered hand, mulling over the various pros and cons of the decision she was about to make. On the one hand, they might get in trouble, which frightened her more than anything. But on the other, she was still a little angry and Dick was smiling at her so wonderfully. He could see she was on the verge of agreeing, so he wiggled his fingers invitingly. Charlotte laughed and finally nodded before taking his hand.

"Alright." She agreed. Dick cheered happily and immediately began to pull her gently after him down the hall. He had a relatively good idea of where he was going, but it still took them a little time to make it out of the maze of corridors. They laughed happily as they ran side by side, their hands still intertwined. Charlotte thought she'd never felt more alive than in that moment, whereas Dick was just trying not to have a heart attack, the feeling of her hand in his was somewhat overwhelming. They eventually managed to find their way back to the main office and Dolly watched with a raised eyebrow as they snuck past. She opened her mouth to ask what on earth they were doing, but they both put a finger to their lips and shushed her. She rolled her eyes and let them leave, but she smiled when she heard them giggling on their way out of the door. They jogged across the lot, which was pretty much empty, apart from a few folks who were on their way to different buildings.

"Where are we going?" Charlotte asked excitedly as they made it to the front gate. Dick shrugged as they continued to jog down the street.

"I don't know!" He cried over his shoulder to her. Charlotte frowned,

"What are we going to do?" She tried, but Dick only snorted and shrugged again.

"I don't know!" He repeated.

"You didn't really plan this through, did you?" She laughed. Dick finally stopped running, now that the studios were out of sight, and turned to her.

"That's the point of a spontaneous outing, there is no plan." He teased. Usually, Charlotte would start to feel pretty anxious right about now. She lived a very ordered life and liked to know exactly what was going on at all times. But for some reason, she was completely fine with the impulsiveness of their afternoon. Dick gestured to the city before them. "What do you want to do? Where do you want to go?" He asked. A broad question, no doubt about that, but Charlie didn't find it hard to come up with an answer.

"Somewhere... Somewhere I've never been before." She replied, beginning to smile excitedly. Dick returned it and raised a finger.

"Okay, coming right up." He turned to the road they were standing by and raised his free hand in the air. "Taxi!" He called and soon after, a bright yellow car rolled to a stop beside them. They clambered into the back seat and Dick gave the driver an address she didn't recognise. It was a short drive, and they talked animatedly the whole way there, without noticing that their fingers were still interlaced.

* * *

><p>A little while later, they were climbing up a lush green hill that was only a few minutes away from the city. They were both laughing breathlessly as Charlotte attempted to complete Dick's challenge for her.<p>

"Come on, one more time." He prompted as they neared the top of the hill. Charlotte shook her head.

"It's pointless, I can't say it." She replied, but her smile was wide and carefree. Dick chuckled and nudged her side gently.

"C'mon, it's easy." He encouraged her. "Supercali..." Charlotte frowned in concentration and tried to repeat the ridiculous word.

"Supercalifragilstic..?" She looked to Dick for help and he nodded.

"Expiali." He said obligingly. Charlotte thought for a moment before continuing.

"Expialidocious?" She finished. She looked to Richard with wide eyes. "Is that right?" She asked excitedly. Dick nodded.

"Yep." Charlotte's forehead creased with concentration and she raised her hands in front of her, moving them up and down with every syllable to help her.

"Supercalifragilsticexpialidocious." She said slowly and Dick gave a joyous cry.

"Hey, see!" He cheered. "I said you could do it!" Charlotte chortled as she swung her arms, relishing in the feeling of not having to carry anything and just being free to move about as she wished. Fortunately, she hadn't brought any bags with her to work that day and her suitcase of supplies was safe in her office. She could run, jump and spin as much as she liked and no one was there to tell her off or say that it was unladylike to move in such a way.

"Supercalifragilsticexpialidocious!" She repeated perfectly then laughed joyfully. "Fantastic! I shall never stop saying it." She declared as they reached the top of the hill. Dick took her elbow and gently guided her so that they stood right at the edge of the hill and she could see where he'd brought her.

"Here we are." He announced, grandly sweeping an arm out in front of him. Charlotte's lips parted with surprise as she surveyed the horizon. She realised that he'd brought her to the top of the hill that she climbed every day in a taxi.

"Wow." She breathed. She could see the city so much more clearly, especially now it was beginning to get dark. The street lamps were starting to flicker into life and tiny pinpricks of light brightened up the buildings of the bustling city. She could just about make out people walking through the streets, but they looked more like ants as they went about their business under the sky that was beginning to burn orange. Dick glanced between the view and Charlotte, eager to impress her. He was relieved that she seemed to like his choice of destination. As Charlotte continued to study the view, Dick turned and got busy trying to make things comfortable for them. He pulled off his jacket and carefully laid it out on the ground for them to sit on. Charlotte was a _lady_, she couldn't possibly sit on the grass. He straightened up and gestured for her to take a seat. Charlotte smiled gratefully, even if his gesture had been unnecessary. She was perfectly happy to sit on the grass, even if it was a little muddy, but she settled herself comfortably on Dick's blazer, her legs stretched out in front of her.

"So, tell me about yourself." Richard said as he sat down beside her. He settled his legs beside hers but leaned back on his hands whilst her back stayed straight. Charlotte looked at him with a slight smirk.

"We've known each other for a while now, Richard." She replied coyly. She thought they already knew quite a bit about each other, but obviously Dick thought there was a lot more to learn. He shrugged.

"Tell me something I don't know about ya." He suggested. "Where did you grow up?" Charlotte gave a slight huff of laughter and shook her head at the musician.

"You couldn't possibly be interested in all that." She replied, making Dick frown.

"Why not?" He asked quietly. Did she think that she had nothing important to say? No, that couldn't be it. Charlotte knew that she was intelligent and talented and definitely worth listening to, so what was it? She paused for a moment before saying,

"I grew up in a town called Southfields in London." Dick grinned and reached forward to pat her shoulder gently.

"There you go, I didn't know that about you." He said happily, making Charlotte chuckle. "Tell me about your family, I bet they're unequivocally interesting." Again, Charlotte laughed and frowned quizzically back at him.

"Why so many questions?" She inquired teasingly. Dick raised his palms in surrender and sat up straight so he could look her properly in the eye.

"Fine, how about I ask a question, then you, so we take turns at it?" He suggested. Charlotte nodded.

"Fine." She agreed, then leaned back on her hands, mirroring the position he had held a few seconds ago. "To answer your earlier question," She added. "My family aren't terribly interesting or diverse. My father was born in Richmond and my mother was actually born in Southfields too, so she didn't move at all." Dick smiled at her words and turned to look out at the city. The sky was gradually darkening and in the distance, they could just about make out the moon beginning to appear.

"I'm the opposite, we were always moving about. But my parents were actually next door neighbours growing up." He told her.

"How sweet." She murmured. "What about you? Where did you grow up?"

"Well, I was born in New York. My parents were Russian Jewish immigrants so they didn't have much money at the time." He paused for a moment as he thought about his parents. They had been hard-working people, he'd never known folks like them. Those had been hard times but they'd got through it somehow. He smiled as he pictured his loving family in his mind. "My father was actually a songwriter too, so me and Bob got that from him. When I was nine, we finally settled down in Beverly Hills." Charlotte watched him carefully as he spoke. He was so lovely to listen to, so calming and soothing, she could listen to his voice all day and never get tired of it. She saw him smile slightly as he looked over the city. "Now I live in Burbank, not far from the studios. I like it here a lot, it's much more peaceful." He continued, his voice dropping to a quieter tone now. He chuckled softly and gestured to the city before them. "And I mean, look at that view." Charlotte did indeed look out at the sights in the distance and then at the blazing yellow sky. She was suddenly reminded of a view just like this where she grew up. She gave a huff of laughter and turned her body in towards Dick a little more so she could sit with her legs beside her, leaning on one hand so that their heads were closer.

"Back home, there's this park right by my mother's house." She told him quietly as she continued to enjoy the slowly setting sun. Dick turned his head to look at her and was surprised by how close they suddenly were. He tried to take in every single inch of her face while he had the chance and she was looking the other way, so that the exact colour of her eyes, the freckles and patterns of her skin, and the shape of her lips were burned into his memory. "On one side, by the playground, there's a little police station with a beautiful, white balcony on top and if you stand there at the right time, you can see the sun setting over the city in the distance." Dick smiled sadly as he continued to gaze at her. She looked a little forlorn now as she watched the setting sun. He wondered if all people wore that same look when they thought about their homes, a strange mixture of happy and sad that didn't have a name.

"That sounds nice." He murmured softly, as he tried to decide whether the sweet smell in the air was caused by the flowers that surrounded them or the woman beside him. Charlotte hummed in agreement and he thought perhaps she had drifted into a world of her own, but then she blinked and she was grinning again. Charlie leaned even further towards him and playfully nudged his arm.

"What kind of music do you like?" She inquired, as it was her turn to ask a question. Dick immediately snapped out of his trance and shrugged his shoulders.

"Anything. I'll listen to anything and everything." He told her honestly. It didn't do well for a musician to dislike certain types of music. Richard thought it was important that he be open to everything. Luckily he didn't have to explain this to Charlie, because she had a similar answer.

"I'm the same." She replied in turn. Then she smiled. "Although, I am particularly fond of Nat King Cole." She added. Dick nodded, his grin starting to return.

"I like him too." He was over the moon that they had so much in common, even if it didn't seem like it on the surface. They came from different worlds and were very different people, but underneath, they were one in the same. Scraping at the bottom of the barrel, Dick asked, "What's your favourite colour?" Charlotte snickered at his childish question but answered all the same.

"Blue." She said.

"Yellow for me." Charlotte nodded, a thoughtful look on her face.

"It suits you." She told him. He was such a bright and sunny man, it seemed right that he would like such a cheerful colour. Dick nodded to her left hand and wriggled his eyebrows.

"No husband, then?" He joked, although underneath, he was quite pleased that there was no wedding band on her fourth finger. Charlotte chuckled then pointed to his own hand.

"No wife?" She shot back, also wriggling her eyebrows but only to mock him. They both laughed, the sound stretching across the deserted hill. The only sign of life apart from the city below was the occasional car in the distance. Apart from that, they were completely alone up there amongst the flowers. Dick leaned back, resting his weight on his elbows and sighed as he studied the sky.

"Unmarried at thirty six, my mother would be furious." He murmured, looking for shapes in the clouds overhead. Charlotte chuckled and mirrored his position, also looking up at the busy sky.

"Unmarried at thirty three, my mother _is_ furious." She muttered, making Richard laugh again. They were silent for a moment, just happy in each other's company as they watched the clouds go by. Then Charlotte remembered it was her turn to ask a question and brought up something she had been meaning to ask the musician for a while now. "What does the 'M' in your name stand for?" She asked quietly. Dick turned his head to her with a confused frown. Where had she gotten that from? Charlotte blushed and looked down at the soft material of his blazer. "I saw it written on the side of your music folder." She admitted. Dick chuckled and closed his eyes wearily.

"I'd hoped I'd never have to reveal this to you." He said dramatically, making Charlotte giggle. He sighed then met her gaze again. "The 'M' stands for Morton." He told her. She didn't laugh like he'd thought she was. It was quite a silly name and he'd often been teased about it, but Charlotte merely smiled softly and settled so that she was lying down on his jacket, her hands resting on her stomach.

"Richard Morton Sherman." She said slowly, paying attention to each syllable as she tested out the name for the first time. Dick couldn't hold back his contented sigh as his name left her lips, but luckily for him, she didn't seem to notice. However, he couldn't pretend that her voice wrapped around his name hadn't given him butterflies. Charlie smiled. "That's quite cute actually." She told him kindly. Dick snorted, not sure he totally agreed but he wouldn't argue with her. He let out a long sigh as he laid down on his back beside her and closed his eyes for a moment. He suddenly felt quite tired, lying here in the grass with the sky growing dark above them. Or maybe it wasn't fatigue, perhaps it was simply peacefulness. He couldn't think of the last time he'd felt this contented, and it was all because of the hazel-eyed woman who laid beside him.

"You got a ridiculous middle name to tell me about to make me feel better?" He asked quietly, trying to keep the questions going so he didn't nod off all together. He heard Charlie laugh.

"No, sorry. My name's already a mouthful as it is." She replied. They were silent for a little while longer and Dick thought he was just about to drift off to sleep when Charlotte suddenly spoke again. "Thank you for this. I really appreciate it." She murmured. He opened his eyes and turned his head to her. She was smiling sweetly at him and his stomach somersaulted like an Olympic gymnast.

"No problem." He replied. "It's good to step outside your comfort zone every so often." Charlotte nodded slightly and her gaze travelled down from his eyes to rest somewhere near his shirt collar.

"You're a good friend, Richard." She told him softly. He chuckled then, surprising Charlie. She looked back up at him questioningly and he laughed again.

"And yet you won't call me 'Dick'." He explained simply. Charlotte grinned and turned her head back to look up at the slowly appearing stars.

"Ah, you'll have to do something to impress me to earn that." She told him in what she hoped was an enigmatic tone. Dick shook his head.

"You're so difficult to win over." He sighed melodramatically. Charlotte raised her eyebrows and grinned at him.

"But worth it." She added with a laugh. Dick chuckled quietly and looked back up at the sky.

"I'll say." He murmured. Charlotte wasn't sure whether she was supposed to hear those last few words, but either way, they made her chest flutter.

They stayed up on the hill for another few hours, just laughing and talking and watching the stars appear. But after a while, it started to grow cold and they went their separate ways. After that evening, their friendship solidified permanently and Charlotte and Richard were as close as two people could be. It didn't matter what happened, because from then on, they would always be together. And although neither of them knew it at the time, they had each given themselves to the other completely.


	6. Chapter 6

It was an ordinary, bright day in Burbank, and the sun was shining diligently upon the Walt Disney studios. The music room was baking hot, so Don and the Shermans had opened each window as wide as it could go, hoping a fresh breeze might drift through. They sat at the long desk which acted as a workspace when Charlotte wasn't using it, just making notes and talking idly. It was too hot for anything too energetic like practising their music, so they'd decided to try and cool off by going over Don's script and deciding where the next song would fit in. They knew it was set in the children's playroom, but they needed to find a way to easily move from the dialogue into the song.

Dick blew out a long upward breath, trying to cool his face. They'd all taken off their jackets and waistcoats, and if the temperature didn't drop soon, they'd all be sitting around in their vests. Dick wondered what Charlotte would make of them all if she saw that. She would probably laugh at them, he decided. It wasn't uncommon that his mind wandered to the artist whenever he was bored or his work wasn't too consuming. He could easily picture her in his head: that smile, those eyes. He smiled to himself as he thought back to the other day, when they had left work early to sit on a hill just outside of the city. He'd had the most wonderful time, and he was sure Charlotte had too. They'd gotten a bit of an earful from their friends the next day, but that was mostly because they'd left them alone with Mrs. Travers without warning. Oh, but it had been worth it. They'd gotten to know each other so much better, and now they were close, much closer than he was with anyone else.

He wondered what she was doing right now, right that second. He hadn't yet visited her office, but from her stories, it was a lot stuffier than the rehearsal room. He pictured her leaning over her desk, hard at work, all alone. He thought about going to find her later, then maybe they could go out to get some ice cream or something. She'd like that, but they'd have to be back quick, unless they wanted another telling off from Don and Bob. Speaking of, he realised he could hear someone calling his name.

"Dick?" He shook his head slightly and looked around at Don, who was frowning at him across the table. Their friend had been staring into space with a dreamy smile on his face for the past five minutes. "You awake?" He asked, glancing at Bob with a knowing grin. Dick rolled his eyes and continued to scribble notes on his script.

"Yeah, I'm awake." He shot back darkly, not wanting to be mocked again. His brother and Don loved to tease him about Charlie, always making little jokes and nudging him whenever she even so much spoke to him. He didn't want to start them off again, but it was too late. Don tsked as he looked back down at his script.

"What were you thinking about that had you so distracted?" He asked innocently, but Dick didn't answer. He knew precisely where this was going and he didn't want to engage in it.

"Oh, we know _exactly_ what he was thinking about." His brother chimed in, a sly grin on his face. Dick shot him a look, trying to stop the words he knew were about to come from Bob. But his older brother only chuckled. "Or rather _who_." Dick sighed and dropped his gaze to his script again.

"Shut up." He said wearily, it was too hot to fight and he didn't have the energy to try.

"Just ask her out." Don said, as if it were ever that simple. Again, Dick sighed and closed his eyes tiredly.

"Please, shut up." He groaned. He really didn't want to have this conversation, especially not at work when Charlotte might walk in any second. But his friends seemed to find great amusement in his pain, and continued to tease him about it mercilessly.

"C'mon, everyone knows you like her." Bob told him, and this finally warranted the reaction they'd been looking for. Dick's head shot up and he stared wide-eyed at them.

"Everyone? What do you mean everyone?" He cried, beginning to feel a little panicked. There was nothing to be worried about, he and Charlotte were friends, plain and simple, but that didn't stop people from speculating.

"Well, you guys aren't exactly subtle." Don chided, sending a wicked grin to Bob who chuckled in return. _'Oh, God,_' Dick thought. _'Oh, no, no, no, no, no.'_ He looked between them and began to tap the end of his pencil against the table agitatedly.

"You don't think Walt..?" He supposed nervously. If word of his and Charlotte's invented infatuation reached the boss, they would be in big trouble. He wasn't exactly sure what the company's policy was on inter-employee relationships, but the way Don and Bob were suggesting that people talked meant that their relationship had been blown way out of proportion.

"So you _do_ like her!" Bob cried triumphantly, brandishing his pen as he spoke. Dick immediately realised his mistake and tried to backtrack.

"No, that's not what I-" He saw the looks on his colleague's faces and knew that there was no use arguing with them. He sighed and looked down at his work, feeling his face start to go red. "Just shut up." He muttered. Don and Bob exchanged knowing glances before turning back to their work as well. They didn't want to poke too much fun at Dick, but it was funny to see him all worked up over nothing. Yes, many people they worked with had seen the spark between Dick and Charlie, but they didn't gossip about it. As if things couldn't get any worse for Dick at that moment, there was a light knock at the door and in stepped Charlotte, a bright smile on her face.

"Good morning!" She greeted the men warmly. Dick heard his friends reply with equal gusto, but he finished the sentence he was writing first before looking up at Charlie. But then he really wished he hadn't. He felt his face start to burn again when he saw her, and knew he must've looked like a complete idiot staring at her like that, but he couldn't help it. Her caramel curls were free from her usual bun, and bounced around her shoulders as she walked. Her lips were pink today instead of the usual red and somehow, her eyes seemed even more dazzling. She wore a light pink dress with little printed flowers that ended mid-calf, so he was treated to the sight of her legs. She looked absolutely beautiful, and her smile lifted his heart in chest. Suddenly, the room felt unbearably stuffy for an entirely different reason.

"Everyone alright?" She asked kindly, looking at them all in turn before finally settling on him. Dick found himself quite lost for words, but when he heard his friends snort at his speechlessness, he blushed and fought to get his tongue working properly.

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm great. You look, um..." He trailed off as his eyes flicked over her again before he smiled nervously up at her. "How are you?" He asked instead, mentally kicking himself for sounding so moronic. Charlotte frowned slightly at Don and Bob, who were sniggering behind their scripts, before she replied to Dick.

"I'm wonderful, thank you. If a little hot." She said, fanning herself with one hand for emphasis. Again, Dick blushed. Oh, yes, she was certainly hot alright. "I was wondering if I might ask you boys a favour." Bob decided to let Dick simmer in his own embarrassment for a little while, and settled down so that he could talk to Charlie properly.

"Ask away." He said, curious as to what she needed of them.

"Even if I don't completely agree with the term 'boys'." Added Don with a teasing grin. Charlotte laughed at his comment but didn't make any move to take her words back, much to their amusement.

"I know this sounds terribly..." She paused and narrowed her eyes, her mouth twisting thoughtfully. She looked to Dick and clicked her fingers, as if trying to jog her memory. "How did you put it?" She asked him. He had used the word she was looking for a few times before, but she'd never seen a need for it until now. Dick shrugged his shoulders and gave her an apologetic smile, but it didn't matter because Charlotte suddenly remembered the word she was looking for. "Dorky!" She cried happily and the three men burst out laughing, both at the ridiculously excited look on the artist's face and the obscurity of the usually well-spoken woman using such a word. She chuckled a little too but wasn't deterred from using the colloquialism. "I know this sounds terribly dorky, but would you mind being in a photograph?" She asked, finally getting to the reason as to why she'd entered the room. Much to her delight, her friends all nodded eagerly.

"Yeah, sure." Bob said, getting up from his seat to stand in the centre of the room, ready to move where she put him.

"What for?" Asked Don as he and Dick walked to stand next to Bob. Charlotte smiled, pleased that they had all agreed so easily.

"For my mother." She explained as she readied the camera. She had only used one a few times before, but it wasn't difficult to figure out. "She asked me to send her a photograph of me at work and I've told her so much about you all..." She finally sorted out the timer and settled the camera on her desk. Dick beamed at her, beginning to get excited about the photograph.

"That sounds nice." He told her and immediately regretted it because the look Charlotte gave him just about melted his heart. She looked so happy that they'd all agreed to help her, perhaps she'd been worried they'd decline. But how could she possibly think, after all they'd done together, that he and his brother and Don could ever say no to her?

"Where do you want us?" Charlotte quickly got to work and bustled them all over to the piano. She instructed Dick to sit down in his usual spot with his brother standing beside him. Don was ordered to stand beside Robert, then Charlie stood back to admire her work. They looked perfect and she made sure they would all fit in the shot before she rested her finger on the shutter button.

"Ready?" She asked with an excited grin.

"Ready!" Came the collective reply from her friends. She gave a quick countdown, from three to one, before pressing the button and hurrying over to the piano. They all laughed at her panicked run as they all got into position, making sure they looked presentable before finding a comfortable pose. Charlotte stood on Dick's other side and chose to rest her arm around his shoulders companionably. Dick looked up at her briefly and she flashed him a wide grin before they both turned to look back at the camera. A few more seconds and then flash, the picture was taken. They all cheered and Charlotte hurried back to her table to grab the camera. She couldn't wait to get it developed, her mother would be over the moon. She gathered the camera up and turned to her boys.

"Thank you so much," She told them earnestly. "You've know idea how much this means to me." Bob waved her off.

"No problem." He replied and his colleagues agreed. Don raised his eyebrows and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder to the wall.

"Hey, make two copies and maybe we could stick one up in here?" He suggested. Charlotte nodded eagerly and promised she would do just that. Then, she was gone again, bustling back off to her office to work. Dick mooched back to the table, not really in the mood for working at the moment. Don and Bob seemed to still be up for the task, but Richard just couldn't gather any enthusiasm today. His brother soon noticed his lack of ardour and knew it would be better to find his little brother something to do, rather than force him to continue with something he wasn't really interested for the moment.

"Hey," He called across the room to Dick. He settled himself back at the table and dug out a few sheets of paper from a pile. "Could you ask Dolly to make copies of these?" He asked and Dick nodded.

"Sure." He replied, taking the papers from his brother and walking out of the door. Bob shook his head in despair and looked back at Don.

"God, it's like every time she's in the room, his mind goes wandering." He teased. Don chuckled as he scanned his script for any possible edits.

"Hey, you felt the same way when you met your wife." He said, vaguely trying to defend Dick. Bob snorted and turned back to his script, not wanting the writer to know he had a point.

* * *

><p>It didn't take long for Dolly to come back with the copies, there wasn't much going on in the office today. Dick thanked her gratefully, but felt guilty when he saw she'd gotten ink on her hands from the mimeograph. Charlie's hands were always covered in stains and smudges, just like that. Although hers were in a variety of exotic colours from her artwork, not the dull, corporate black of the printing machine. She was certainly different, in more ways than one, and she was so full of surprises. She always caught him off guard, in a nice way, of course. One of the things that had been tapping away in the back of his head for a while was the issue she seemed to have with his name. She never referred to him as Dick, only ever Richard, and it always made him do a double take. He'd been trying to decide why she refused to call him anything over than his given name for a while now, and he had yet to come up with an answer. He glanced at Dolly, who was bustling around her desk again. He knew he should probably get out of her hair, but this conundrum had baffled him for too long.<p>

"Hey, Dolly. Can I ask you something?" The petite woman nodded eagerly, her usual bright smile in place.

"Sure, ask away." She replied, gesturing to her empty office chair. Dick thanked her and sat down in the vacant seat.

"It's about Charlie." He began, but he frowned when Dolly looked suddenly interested.

"Ooh!" She gasped, pausing in her work to look back at him. Dick tilted his head a little to the side.

"Ooh? What's ooh?" He asked and Dolly's eyes widened fractionally.

"Nothing." She answered quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. "Just... Oh." Dick still look unconvinced but didn't have the energy after the morning he'd had to question her further.

"Okay, well, Charlie never calls me 'Dick'. She only ever calls me Richard," He explained. "And I thought you might know why." This had been puzzling him from the moment she'd arrived. At first, it was just a formality, they didn't know each other well enough for nicknames. But they were firm friends now, and she still referred to him by his full name. He'd noticed that she called his brother 'Bob' and never Robert, so why did she insist on calling him Richard? It wasn't that it bothered him, he didn't mind at all. It's just that he was curious as to why she refused to use his nickname. Unfortunately, Dolly didn't look like she had the answer. In fact, she looked quite cross with him.

"Women aren't all psychically linked, ya know." She said as she rolled her eyes. Then she jabbed a finger at the telephone on her desk. "That's like asking you why this guy I went out on three dates with won't return my calls." Dick really didn't want to be dragged into Dolly's personal dramas, so he only nodded politely.

"Right." He murmured. He understood what she meant, there was no reason for her to know what went on in Charlie's head. He felt a little disheartened all the same. He'd thought Dolly might be able to shed at least a little light on the situation. When she saw the despondent look in her friend's face, Dolly sighed and stopped what she was doing to talk to him properly.

"Listen, she probably calls you Richard because everyone else calls you Dick." She reasoned in a soft voice. Dick looked up at her curiously so she continued. "To you, it's a nickname, but to her it's, like, your proper name. So Richard is probably just her own nickname for you. That way she has a name for you that's just hers." Dick's eyes widened as he thought over her words.

"You think?" It did make sense, but he hadn't expected it at all. He suddenly felt a lot better, glad that it was an act of endearment and not apathy. "Okay, thanks, Dolly." He said, standing up from her seat and letting her sit down.

"Anytime, sugar." She replied, her usual sweet smile in place. Dick smiled back and was just on his way out of the door when he turned back to her.

"And listen, about that guy, you don't deserve that." He said. Dolly was a stand-up lady, a real sweet girl, and she ought to be with someone who treated her as such. But the young woman only smiled serenely and tapped the telephone with one long fingernail.

"Way ahead of ya." She replied with a devious smirk that frightened him a little.

* * *

><p>Hours had passed, and the day had gotten a little more productive. They had developed their song some more, but now they were stuck.<p>

"It's gotta be like a slogan!" Dick announced, placing his hand thoughtfully on his chin as he paced the room.

"Her prescription for life." Bob agreed. Suggestions began to fly, trying to get a spark of inspiration.

"An apple a day." Supposed Dick. From his chair, Don gave a noncommittal grunt. He wasn't really listening, he was too focused on his drawing, but he wanted to encourage them when he could.

"A stitch in time." Bob suggested, but it still didn't sound right. Don chuckled absently behind them.

"Time and tide wait for no man." He put in half-heartedly, continuing to add to his drawing. They were silent for a moment and Dick found himself wishing Charlie were here. She might be able to help them come up with something, or at least, it would cheer him up a little. He was so caught up in that last thought that he almost missed his brother's quiet suggestion.

"Sugar…" Bob looked to his brother, his eyes growing wide as the idea began to evolve and expand in his head. Dick frowned at him.

"Sugar? Yeah?" He repeated, not sure where Bob was going with this. Robert began to nod, growing excited as his confidence in the idea grew.

"Yeah. Jeff had vaccination day at school yesterday." He said, sitting up straighter in his seat to match the determination he felt. Dick pouted sympathetically.

"Ouch." He said, feeling sorry for his young nephew. But Bob shook his head, his grin widening.

"No ouch."

"No ouch?"

"Sugar." He said again. "They put it in a cube."

"Medicine in sugar?" Dick chuckled a little at the clever idea, but he still wasn't sure where his brother was going with this. Bob tapped the arms of his chair with impatient fingers.

"Cube's an odd word." He thought for a moment before slowly looking back up at Dick. "Spoonful..." He said slowly, and Dick raised his eyes to his brother, a smile starting to split on his face. Don nodded and gestured vaguely to the other side of the room.

"You need sugar, we got sugar." He mumbled, his attention still focused on his drawing. Dick suddenly turned to the writer and clapped his hands together excitedly, making Don jump. He quickly explained the idea that Bob had come up with, and soon Don was smiling too.

"I'll go get her." He announced, springing from his chair with new found vigour. They didn't have to ask who he running off to see, the Shermans had been thinking the same thing.

* * *

><p>"Charlie!" The artist jumped in fright and almost fell out of her chair. Don clamped his teeth down on his lip, suddenly very afraid of the young woman who was glaring at him murderously.<p>

"Good Lord!" She cried as she righted herself in her chair, a hand placed over her thudding heart. "Did you manage to wrench the door completely from its hinges?" Don gave her a weak, apologetic grin and raised his palms for peace.

"Right, sorry," He said quickly, excited about showing Charlie what they'd come up with. "But you gotta come hear this."

* * *

><p>"So we were thinking about Mary's, you know, motto for life." Explained Bob once Charlotte had finally agreed to leave her work and go with Don back to the music room. She sat on top of her desk, with her three boys standing before her, matching excited grins on their faces.<p>

"Something she could tell the children to brighten their moods." Added Dick, who looked about ready to skip around the room with excitement.

"We thought about it long and hard and..." Don gestured to the boys and they sprang eagerly the piano. As Dick began to play her the little melody they had devised, Bob and Don watched Charlie expectantly. Just as predicted, Charlotte's eyes widened as Dick sang, and eventually, a broad smile lit up her face. Oh, yes. They had something good with this song.

* * *

><p>A little while later, Charlotte had returned to her old desk, finding it much more fun to sit with the boys as she drew. She and Don sat side by side as she sketched the children's playroom. It was much nicer and honestly much easier to draw the basic layout of a scene with the music that went with it playing in the background. The Shermans had gotten off to a flying start with the song, but they'd suddenly hit a wall.<p>

"A robin feathering his nest has very little time to rest…" Dick sang, but Bob shook his head and tapped the sheet music in front of them.

"Nope. Go back to the chorus." He decided, rubbing his forehead where a headache was beginning to cloud. Dick flicked through the pages of music until he reached the section they had scribbled down in a hurry before they forgot any of it.

"Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down! The medicine..." He faltered and stopped playing, making Charlotte glance up worriedly. "It's not- It's missing…" He muttered, his brow creasing in concentration. He was starting to get frustrated with himself. Why couldn't they get this right? But then his brother clapped a hand down on his shoulder, his expression brightening.

"Wait!" He cried. "She always does the unexpected." Dick lowered his eyebrows in confusion and Bob started to smile. "She goes up the bannisters." He said. "Go up." Charlie looked up from her little sketch book, which she used for doodling minute ideas that would soon turn into proper drawings. She watched curiously as Bob and Dick worked. Their vocation was incredibly different to her own, and to Charlie, it was quite arcane. So, as often as possible, she would marvel at their talent, and today was no exception. There was also the added bonus that Richard, whenever he caught her looking, would send her this impossibly bright smile that made butterflies in her stomach begin to flutter. Dick began to play again, the new tune prepared in his mind.

"Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down." This time, the melody flowed much better. The musicians gave a giddy laugh and looked like they might jump about with excitement. "That's it! That's it!" They cried ecstatically. Dick looked to Charlotte, his smile wife but tinged with nervous expectancy. "What d'you think?" He asked her. Charlotte glanced at Don beside her and they shared a clandestine smile before she nodded her head.

"I think you're brilliant." She told him sincerely. In his heart of hearts, Dick knew that she meant both himself and his brother, but he would pretend that her words were directed solely at him. Don's ears pricked when he heard a hearty cough from out in the hall, a tell-tale sign that their boss was approaching.

"Man is in the forest." He warned them all, the signal that meant they should stand to attention. "I want you to play that for him." Immediately, the brothers scrambled to place their sheet music in the right order, ready to present what they had come up with, and Charlotte slid off the table and sat in an armchair that was out of the way, just as Mr. Disney walked through the door, Mrs. Travers at his side. "Walt?" Don called the man over, and the Shermans steeled themselves, feeling quite nervous, as they always did, about exhibiting their work, especially in front of the curmudgeonly Mrs. Travers.

"It's just a chorus." Dick told Walt as he settled in his seat.

"Tell us what you think." Charlotte watched from afar as the Shermans began to perform. They'd come up with the main melody and a few of the words, but Don was so sure it would be a hit, he just had to show the boss. She smiled faintly as she watched her friends play.

"He knows dum dum, will help dum dum dum duuuum!" Dick sang, filling in the blank spaces that would soon be written if Disney liked the song. Then he began to perform what they were certain of. "For... A... Spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down! The medicine go do-own, medicine go down. Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down. In a de da dee daaa!" He finished with a bright flourish. Charlotte couldn't see Walt's expression, but from the growing smiles on the brothers' faces, their song had gotten a warm reception.

"We'll work out the rest of the lyrics." Bob assured Mr. Disney quickly. Dick nodded, beginning to get excited again.

"You see how it goes up on the word down?"

"On the word down, it goes up."

"It's ironic." Added Don helpfully. Walt chuckled and shook his head.

"Well, forget ironic, it's _iconic_!" He told them, much to the relief of the team. "I won't be able to stop singing that for weeks!" He grinned cheerily and began to sing the little melody back to the boys, who looked like they might burst with pride. But then a surly voice interrupted them, and their smiles disappeared.

"Well, it seems enormously patronising to me." Mrs. Travers called from her seat at Charlotte's desk. All eyes turned the older woman and she continued. "Just the sort of annoying tune you would have playing in your themed park, I daresay. All giddy and carefree, encouraging children to face the world unarmed." Charlie stole a glance at the brothers and felt her heart sink when she saw their faces. Bob, yet again, looked furious, but Richard looked so hopelessly forlorn it broke her heart. "All they need is a spoon and some sugar and a brain full of fluff and they're equipped with life's tools. Wonderful!" Walt obviously felt just as perturbed as everyone else in the room and he fixed the woman with as restrained a glare as he could.

"What's your point, Pam?" He asked, but he didn't really want the author to say anymore. Unfortunately, she had other ideas.

"Mrs. Travers! _Please_!" She corrected him sternly. She sighed and removed her glasses from the end of her nose so that she could look at them all in turn. "My point is that, unlike yourself, Mary Poppins is the very enemy of whimsy and sentiment." Dick lowered his gaze to the piano keys, finding he couldn't bring himself to put on a brave face today. Beside him, his brother clutched at his cane painfully tight. "She's truthful, she doesn't sugar-coat the darkness in the world that these children will eventually, inevitably come to know. She prepares them for it, she deals in honesty! One must clean ones room; it won't magically do it by itself!" Mrs. Travers cried as she stood from the table. She held Don's script aloft in her hands, waving it about carelessly. "This entire script is flim flam! Where is its heart? Where is its reality? Where... Is the gravitas?" She finished gravely. When there was no response to her grand speech, Mrs. Travers hummed thoughtfully then strode to the window. Before anyone could say a word to stop her, the author had flung the carefully crafted script out of an open window. Charlie let out a gasp and sprang out of her chair, but there was nothing she could do. Mrs. Travers turned back to the room full of people and crossed her arms defiantly. "No weight, Mr. Disney." She told the slack-jawed film maker. "See?" Walt paused for a moment, letting the tension in the room settle for a moment before he said,

"No whimsy or sentiment, says the woman who sent a flying nanny with a talking umbrella to save the children." Mrs. Travers seemed to be surprised at his incredulous statement.

"You think Mary Poppins has come to save the children, Mr. Disney?" She replied. When Walt didn't answer, Mrs. Travers tutted and sighed. "Oh, dear." She muttered as she walked out of the room. Dick looked from Walt to Charlie, his mouth hanging open slightly from disbelief. The artist was staring out of the window where Mrs. Travers had disposed of their script with an unreadable expression. Then she caught his gaze and her rose-pink lips formed a grimace. He nodded slowly, a silent message telling her that he understood what she was feeling because he felt the same way.

* * *

><p>The room stayed eerily quiet for the rest of the day, as if everyone was too nervous to make too loud a noise. Charlotte had retreated back to her office soon after the script incident, but towards the end of the day, she came back to see how everyone was getting on. She had expected to find all three men crowded around her desk, discussing (arguing about) Mrs. Travers' crass actions. But instead, she found only Bob in the music room. He was sat at the desk, yes, but his colleagues were nowhere to be seen. Should she go in? The room was deadly silent, broken only by the gentle breeze outside and the occasional putter of a car engine. Bob was scribbling something down on a script, thankfully there had been more than enough copies made. She thought about creeping back down the hallway, not wanting to disturb the musician. Well, no, that was a lie. She didn't want to go in because she had never been alone with the oldest Sherman before and she want sure what to stay to him. She wasn't awkward by nature, but sometimes she managed to trip over her own words and that led to embarrassment, ergo more verbal catastrophes. But, surely she was just being silly? Robert was a lovely man and she had no reason to be nervous. With her mind made up, Charlotte crept into the room as tacitly as her heels would allow.<p>

"Hi." She called quietly. Bob looked up, a little surprised, he hadn't heard the door open.

"Hey." He replied, before turning back to the work resting on his lap. Charlotte carefully walked to the table, fearing that too loud a noise would disturb the stillness of the room. She rested her fingers lightly on the back of an empty chair across from him and chewed her lip awkwardly for a moment before asking,

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" Bob looked back up at her and nodded, obviously not feeling half as awkward and she did.

"Sure, sit down." He invited, gesturing to the chair she had been standing behind. She thanked him politely and sat down, her back straight and her hands resting on her knees, as if she were in the company of a stranger.

"Where's Richard?" She asked eventually. That unfortunately seemed to spark Bob's interest. He narrowed his eyes at her and she noticed a sly grin starting to emerge.

"What is it with you two?" He asked outrightly and Charlotte's eyes widened until they were like saucers.

"What?" She cried, and her voice came out a little squeakier than she'd have liked. "Nothing, I was just wondering." Bob clearly didn't believe her, though Charlotte didn't completely understand what was happening between her and Dick either, so that didn't make it a complete lie.

"He went with Don to try and talk some sense into Walt." He scoffed and shook his head. "Dunno how successful they'll be though." He added bitterly with a slight glance to where Mrs. Travers usually sat. Charlie followed his gaze and the chair for a moment, mulling over his words.

"She really gets to you, doesn't she?" She murmured and Bob chuckled.

"Ho ho, yeah." He agreed and they both laughed. Charlotte was glad they were talking naturally, even if it was over such a negative topic. "You seem to get along with her alright." Bob pointed out as he scribbled out something on his paper. Charlotte hummed thoughtfully.

"She's difficult, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't be polite." She said, finally turning back to look at him. Bob met her gaze and shook his head in bewilderment.

"How do you do it?" He asked. "You've got the patience of a saint." Charlotte exhaled sharply through her nose and looked down at her lap.

"Saintliness has nothing to do with it." She replied, crossing her arms comfortably as she began to relax her posture. "I did storm out of the room the other day." Bob gave a loud laugh and let his writing hand rest on the table for a moment so he could address her properly.

"Then what is it?" He asked. Charlotte began to smile when he leaned towards her conspiratorially and raised his eyebrows. "Sorcery?" He whispered and Charlotte let out a loud laugh, instantly dispelling all tension from the room. Bob began to laugh too and picked up his pen again. "Seriously, you gotta tell me your secret." He said as he continued to make notes. Charlotte let her laughter gradually subside whilst she used her foot to tug another empty chair closer so she could rest her feet on it. When she was comfortable she looked back to Bob.

"I just... I just think it's important to try and understand why she might act the way she does." She tried to explain it to him. Bob looked up with an incredulous frown and she laughed a little before continuing. "Well, Mrs. Travers' book is a part of her, just as much as your music is a part of you." She said, finding it quite difficult to explain the way her mind worked. But Bob seemed ready and willing to listen so she happily continued. "And it must be incredibly difficult to travel thousands of miles, alone, to a place she's never been before and see all this. And then meet a team of people who might drastically change something she cares about. And so, she lets us know that we're pushing it too far by insulting us." Bob seemed to understand her point of view, but he gave her a teasing smile.

"You were doing so well up until then." He joked and Charlotte chuckled. They were silent for a moment and the music room seemed terribly empty without every member of its eclectic team, and terribly quiet without their music.

"She's all by herself, Bob." Charlie murmured eventually, once she'd gathered her thoughts properly. "I'd like her to be happy." Robert sighed and nodded his head.

"You're right. Of course, you're right." He said reluctantly. Then he shot her a pointed look. "But she's still an old bat." Charlotte nodded, her brow furrowed.

"Oh, yes, definitely." She said quickly. Again, they laughed, and Charlotte couldn't remember why she had been so nervous about talking to the older Sherman brother. It was just like talking to Dick, except she wasn't nearly as tongue tied. "But, we must be kind." She added, determined to keep the promise she'd made to herself about being nice to Mrs. Travers, no matter how awful she was. "Kindness won't hurt us, but it will help her." Bob looked at Charlie for the longest time, his expression clouded with an emotion she couldn't quite read. Then the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.

"I can see why my brother likes you so much." He said, and he was being honest, there was no teasing tone to his voice. Charlotte was a lovely woman, very kind and thoughtful, and his brother had been instantly drawn to her. He understood why Dick always acted so dazed around her, it was the same feeling he got when he spoke to his wife, even after years of marriage. Charlotte looked quite moved by his words, but only for a moment. As if to cover up the emotion she had let slip, she gave him a stern look.

"And on that note, I have to get back to work." She said briskly as she stood up from her chair. Bob groaned as she began to walk away.

"Oh, c'mon, don't be like that!" He called after her. He too had realised that this was the first moment they'd ever had alone and he'd been enjoying getting to know her a little more. But apparently, Charlotte was a lot better at coping with teasing than his brother was. When Charlotte didn't even look back at him he said, "You know it's true!" He heard her give a scornful laugh just as she reached the door. "Just kiss him already!" He shouted after her. Oh, he'd done it now. Charlotte stuck her head back around the door and stared at him in surprise.

"Good Lord! Haven't you got anything better to do than antagonise me?" She cried, although he could see that she was fighting a grin. He also noticed the red blush starting to colour her cheeks and suspected that she'd quickly pictured the idea in her head, hence the embarrassed expression. Bob leaned back in his chair and shrugged.

"This is way more fun!" He decided. Charlotte huffed and turned on her heel, leaving Bob alone in a fit of laughter.

* * *

><p>It was late by the time they left that evening. Dick was just on his way out of the building when he was reminded of something. Both Don and his brother had left already, but he hadn't seen Charlie leave. His hand was literally on the door handle when he realised she hadn't come in to see them. She wouldn't leave without saying goodbye, so what had happened? There was only one possible explanation, so Dick let go of the door handle and walked back the way he came. A few minutes later, his theory had proved to be correct. He leaned, cross-armed against the door frame of her office, smiling fondly at the artist. She had fallen asleep in the middle of a drawing, her head resting on her arm. Dick chuckled to himself as he walked further into the room, dropping his bag and his jacket on the way. He looked over her shoulder, trying to spy what she'd been drawing and was glad that he did. In charcoal pencil, Charlotte had painstakingly drawn Mary sitting on a cloud, checking her reflection in a little hand mirror, her famed umbrella beside her. He'd never forget that moment for as long as he lived, the sight of her, leaning over her art in the middle of the night. She looked beautiful and so did her drawing. With no small amount of regret, Dick reached forward and gently shook her shoulder.<p>

"Charlotte?" He whispered, trying to stir her awake as carefully as he could. "Charlotte?" The artist let out a soft moan and slowly lifted her head from the desk, squinting at Dick with bleary eyes.

"What?" She croaked, blinking once or twice drowsily. He smiled a little at her sleepy expression before she groaned and let her head drop into her hands. "Oh, no." She moaned. "I fell asleep, didn't I?"

"Yeah." Dick replied softly, not wanting to startle her by suddenly being too loud. Charlotte shook her head, her face still covered by her hands.

"Like a toddler at a wedding reception, ugh." She grumbled and Dick chuckled softly. He carefully helped her to her feet and tutted when he saw she'd been leaning against her drawing in her sleep.

"You've got charcoal on your face." He told her with a quiet chuckle, raising a hand to her cheek and gently wiping the smudge away with his thumb. Charlotte was too tired to be embarrassed, but when Dick's fingers attentively touched her face, she felt butterflies in her stomach once again.

"What time is it?" She asked as she began to gather her things. She didn't look at him again for a few seconds, just trying to calm herself down after his caring gesture.

"It's gone eleven." He told her and Charlotte groaned again.

"Oh, God." She shook her head. "Alright, I need to go home." She could barely pull on her jacket, she was so tired. Dick took pity on her and helped her guide her arms through the sleeves, then took the lapels and gently pulled them into place at the front.

"We both do." He replied, and Charlotte found that his sweet smile was gently reeling her out from her drowsy state. He looped his arm through hers and pulled her to the door, picking up his jacket and bag on the way past. "Come on, you can share my cab." He offered and Charlotte was happy to oblige. She let him guide her through the corridors and out into the parking lot where his taxi was indeed waiting. He made sure she was safely sat inside before climbing in next to her. Charlie gave the taxi driver the address of her hotel then relaxed back into the comfortable leather seat. She hugged her briefcase to her chest and smiled dreamily at the musician as the car puttered through the almost empty streets.

"Thank you for waking me up, I might've been there all night otherwise." In the half-light of the car, provided solely by the street lamps that whizzed by, she could just about see Dick's sweet, crooked smile as his fingers toyed with a loose thread on his jacket.

"It's lucky I remembered when did, I was just on my way out of the door." He admitted, and Charlotte hummed in agreement. "I just thought it was weird that you hadn't come in to say goodbye." He glanced up at her then and found Charlotte was giving him this surprisingly sincere look, as if she took his comment completely seriously.

"Oh, I'd never leave without saying goodbye." She promised, and there was a layer of determination to her voice that told him she was telling the truth. The journey was thankfully quite short, and soon enough, the taxi had pulled up outside her hotel. Dick quickly got out of the car and opened Charlotte's door for her, much to her amusement. He asked the driver to keep the meter running before skipping up the steps to meet Charlie at the entrance. "Thank you, I'm alright from here." She said, and Dick smiled, ready to say goodnight, but then she asked, "What do you think she meant?" Richard frowned, not quite sure what she was referring to. Charlotte chuckled at his confused look. "Mrs. Travers." She reiterated. "What do you think she meant when she said that Mary Poppins isn't there to save the children?" The author's words had been bothering her all day, and she couldn't quite get her head wrapped around them. But unfortunately, Dick seemed just as clueless as she did.

"Who knows?" He shrugged. He wanted to give her a proper answer, but Charlotte would see through any vain attempt to guess the author's meaning in an instant. Still, he felt guilty when he saw the disappointed look on her face. That was when Richard decided to do something very brave. He stepped forward, and while her gaze was lowered, he kissed her quickly on the cheek. Charlie looked up in surprise and Dick panicked for a moment, afraid he had been too forward, but then she began to smile. Trying to hide how relieved he felt, Dick smiled sweetly back and gave a slight bow. "Good night, Charlie." He said, before turning to walk down the steps. Charlotte watched him go, her chest feeling like it might burst with happiness.

"Good night." She replied softly. Dick gave her one last smile before raising his hand in farewell and hopping back into the taxi. Charlotte stood by the entrance to her hotel and watched him drive away before she walked inside. She faintly touched her cheek, not quite believing that Dick had had the courage to make such a step. She felt hot all over, and she knew she must be as red as a tomato, but she was too elated to care. Charlie smiled at the concierge on her way past the reception desk and jumped into the lift just as the doors were closing. She travelled with a couple who'd obviously just come in from a night on the town. They spoke softly and occasionally giggled, which usually would've annoyed Charlie, but tonight she felt strangely optimistic. The air felt a little warmer, the stars a little brighter, and she walked lightly yet with a new purpose. Maybe it was the Californian air, or maybe it was just that she was happy, happier than she'd been in a long time. The less rational side of her brain would violently claim it was due to the lovely piano player who had just kissed her, but she was determined not to blush again that evening.

She sighed contentedly as she got off the elevator on the fifth floor and walked down the short corridor to her room. The hotel was nice enough, she couldn't afford anything too grand, but it was certainly comfortable. Her room was quite large for the price and the furnishings were all well-kept. Perhaps her favourite thing about her room was the long, wide window that she had. She could look out and see the city circled around her, bright lights and fast cars and a sense of endless possibility. It was all so terribly American, foreign and yet somehow she felt quite at home here. She kicked of her kitten heels, letting the squashy red carpet massage her tired feet as she walked to the bed, dropping her various belongings on the floor as she went. She slumped down on the bed and closed her eyes for a moment. It was usually around this time that she felt quite lonely. She was a long way from home and it was strange to live on her own. She'd never been alone her entire life, and she felt terribly grown up staying in a hotel all by herself. But tonight, oh, tonight she felt wonderful. And she knew exactly why.

She groaned and fell back onto the bed, letting the mattress bounce under the force of her movement. She covered her face with her hands and forced herself to think of something else. But it was no use. She let her arms flop down beside her and stared up at the cream ceiling, studying the swirling patterns as she chewed her lip. She couldn't think like that. Any sort of relationship with her colleagues had to be strictly professional. Not only because there might be complications with the rules the company might have about employee relationships, but worse, she was going home in a few weeks. After they finished the film, she'd be packing her bags and flying back home to England... And she'd never see them again. Charlie groaned again and rolled over onto her stomach, burying her face into her crossed arms. She missed her home so much, but she didn't want to leave California. Her job was perfect, the city was beautiful and her friends, Don, Bob, Dick... Her heart plummeted in her chest at the thought of leaving her friends. The looks on their faces would break her heart. The look on his face...

"No. Stop it." She scolded herself out loud. "You're friends. You're friends and nothing more." She sat up on the bed and began to get undressed as she continued to mutter to herself. "You're going home soon and he's..." She tugged down her dress and began to search for her night clothes. "He's... He's..." She glanced out the window and paused when she saw something she'd never noticed before. From her window, she could see the hill, see the spot where she and Dick had sat after they'd left work early. It was quite hard to see in the dark at this distance, but she could just about make out the flowers and the exact place where they'd sat. She remembered how happy she'd felt in that moment, just her and the musician and the stars. She thought of how they'd talked and talked so easily, like they'd known each other their whole lives. And how they had laughed! She had never had so much fun than in those few hours spent with Dick. "He's wonderful." She murmured to herself, staring at the hill that now held such an importance. She looked up a little and caught her reflection in the glass. She looked so sad.

Charlotte huffed and shook her head, snapping herself out of her own melancholy thoughts. She tried to distract herself by continuing to get ready for bed, then quickly switched off the light and jumped under the covers. Whatever happens, happens, she thought. It isn't good to dwell on sad things that haven't even happened yet. Charlotte slowly drifted off to sleep, but still her mind was plagued with the thought of leaving this wonderful world she had stepped into. She couldn't shake the horrid feeling, however she eventually managed to drift off, but only after she turned her thoughts to the wonderful man with the dark, brown eyes and the crooked smile.


End file.
